Harm & Charm
by Galaxyrunner
Summary: This case is ridiculous. Why on earth would Harvey even bother with it? Oh, right, Jessica said so. Is there more to it than appears on the surface? Harvey will just have to find out, whether he likes it or not. It's going to be a bumpy ride, to say the least. Harvey Specter always comes out on top...but sometimes, the top is a lonely place to be. No slash. Zip. Zilch. Zero.
1. Chapter 1: Fall From Grace

**A/N: I really hate when people start off their stories with long notes. Mine will always be at the bottom (with the exception of this one) unless it's SUPER IMPORTANT NEED TO KNOW RIGHT NOW. There will be caps lock.**

**Disclaimers of the usual kind: Suits does not belong to me, OC's are mine, I will be trying to be as canon as possible. No slash. Absolutely no slash. Rating will stay for now, may bump to M depending on where things go. Yippee!  
**

* * *

"Ready to go?" Her husband's famous smile dazzled her, as it always had for the past five years.

"Yes!" Lillian rose gracefully from the car. The dress she wore sparkled and sent red flames flying off into the night. Music was pumping from the club, and the line stretched clear down the block. A smile from Alexander Hanovri the 4th—and a crisp hundred dollar bill—got them in with no problem. The music filled her ears, pounded in her head, in her chest, and in their clasped hands. He shot her a grin and let go, moving toward the bar. She tried to follow him, but they quickly lost each other in the crowd. Her long black hair swung as she half-danced through the crowd, trying to find him. Why had he let go? He had never done that before, not once in all the times they had gone dancing together. It made her anxious, to be surrounded by so many people in such a small space without any familiar faces. She made the best of it, green eyes flashing smiles to those who recognized her and waved as she made it to the bar.

Leaning back against the polished steel of the bar, she ordered a drink and paid little mind as it was pushed into her hand. The lights and the beat strobed in unison. Her head began to hurt. She sipped at her drink with a sigh to herself, suddenly reminded why she didn't really enjoy nightclubs—by herself, at least. She would have stood up on her tiptoes to look for Alex if her heels hadn't been so damn high. She had known he had wanted to relax after his big meeting this morning, but she hadn't figured that meant ditching her while he went off and…what was he doing anyway? He had never needed this sort of relaxation before. Usually his meetings with Pearson Hardman went pretty well, considering. Lillian wasn't that fond of lawyers, and as such, she rarely attended the meetings. She knew that she vaguely liked Jessica, the firm's managing partner, who was a tough lady. Other than that…

She put her empty glass down and pushed herself away from the bar. Whoa, where was that dizziness coming from? She gave the glass a confused look. Hey, she was no lightweight! One little shot shouldn't have even started the buzz. That didn't come till the 3rd. Realizing something was wrong, she turned toward the bathrooms. _I must be tired, _she thought, _guess the day was more stressful than I thought. _It was already midnight and she had been up since 5am. That must be it.

And it was the last thought she remembered having.

* * *

"Harvey, we need to talk."

He barely glanced up. "Can't it wait?"

"Do you think I'd be here if it could?"

Jessica Pearson stood in front of his desk, arms crossed. She was giving him the evil eye, to boot. Granted, he'd never tell _her _he considered it her evil eye, but…that's definitely what it was. He settled for "Stop looking at me like that" and sat back to hear what she wanted. She tossed a file on his desk, which she had been holding conveniently out of sight.

"You remember Alexander Hanovri?"

Harvey looked at the folder like he expected it to catch fire at any moment. "Yes, I remember him. He's a giant prick."

"People would say the same about you," she pointed out.

"Yes, but I've earned my title—he inherited his," Harvey told her as he continued to not open the file in front of him.

"Good. And now you've earned this case."

"What? No, I'm busy with the Gearhart—Langlie case," he argued. "Anything Alexander might require of the firm can easily be handled by someone else. This case is more important."

"So, you think it's beneath you?" Jessica asked, raising an eyebrow. Harvey looked back at her.

"Of course it is. I'm busy. Give it to Louis." He nudged the file away with a finger, loathe to even touch it. He didn't like Alexander. Not even a little. Granted, his personality wasn't exactly a match to _most _of their clients, and he was smart enough to know that not liking them didn't mean the firm didn't want their money…but he certainly didn't want to represent the man in whatever petty little dispute he had going on now.

"Louis," Jessica replied, planting one hand firmly on the steadily inching file, "is busy doing other things. Now. I'm sure you and Mike can handle such a simple case. Just take care of it." She turned to walk out of his office, leaving him to give her back the dirty look he would have given her face had she been paying attention.

"Why are you giving this to me?" his voice was demanding. She glanced over her shoulder as she pushed the door open.

"His wife is refusing to accept the prenup. I'm sure that face of yours will convince her." With a smirk of her own, Jessica sauntered away. Harvey scowled. A divorce. Great. He had only met Alexander's wife once, and only remembered that she had a nice body. He was also pretty sure her eyes were green. Maybe. He resisted the urge to touch his hair. It was perfect today and he sure as hell wasn't going to mess it up. Maybe he could pawn this off on his associate…

"Nope," Donna's cheerful voice broke into his thoughts. She put coffee and several more files down on his desk. "The client specifically requested you. No pawning on this one. You know how important Alexander has proven to be to the firm." He sighed. Million dollar donations tended to do that. Especially when it was more than one million at a time. Granted, the other big case he was working on was worth more from a monetary standpoint, but it was going to take weeks. This one would be quick and easy. Donna finished giving him her I-know-what-you're-thinking face and walked away as he flipped open the file with a sour look on that overly handsome mug of his.

_Great, _he thought. _Reduced from multi-billion dollar corporations…to pre-nups and petty disputes. This is going to be a long day._

* * *

Once, she had a nice life. Or at least, she had the illusion of one. Now she was sitting across from her soon-to-be ex husband, in a room full of windows and light, staring into the eyes of a man who had told her he was in love with her. The same man who had promised her the world, and was now trying to steal it away from her. Was it really too much to expect him to, you know, not be a complete and total jackass?

"Just sign the settlement and we'll be done," his lawyer, the 'great' Harvey Specter said, shoving the stack of papers across the desk at her. At least he hadn't had to put _that _together himself. That's what Mike was for, after all.

_Apparently not. _Well, being doomed to be a jackass forever wasn't _that _bad of a fate, right?

Lillian looked at him. Her life, which had been tumbling in slow motion down a flight of stairs, suddenly sped up. "No," she spat at him. His eyebrows went up. Her own lawyer, a simpering man in a cheap suit, gave the high-powered lawyer opposite him a look nothing short of panic. "I refuse to settle. That pre-nup was a joke. No, literally!" Her husband snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come off it, Lillian," he scoffed at her. "You signed it."

"Seriously, Alex? No, wait, _Alexander,_ that's what you'd prefer to be called, right?" Her green eyes snapped fire across the table at him. "I wouldn't want to be left behind, what with all the changes and all...I have the original, you know, and this..." she dangled the crisp, newly printed document betwixt her fingers. "This is NOT it." Now if she could just FIND that original...

"So," Harvey said, smoothly interjecting himself into the conversation. Or fight, as it was shaping up to be. Which, entertaining as these could be, he really wanted no part of. "What you're saying is...that's not your signature?"

"No," she said, focusing on him, "I'm SAYING—"

"So it IS your signature."

She grit her teeth. "Technically, yes, but—"

"Then it doesn't matter," he told her. This woman was getting on his nerves. He could feel it in his bones; if she kept digging her heels in, this case wasn't going to be as open and shut as he wanted it to be. Sure, it was a ridiculous document, and nobody in their right mind SHOULD have signed it—but she had. And she couldn't truthfully deny that it was not her signature. So, not only was this case beneath him, it was silly to boot.

His boredom showed. So did his disdain. Then again, with Harvey, that was normal.

Lillian wanted to punch him. She knew that the pre-nup Alexander had presented had her signature—but it wasn't the one they had drawn up together 5 years ago. But then, that hadn't been real. That had been a joke. Or so he had said at the time.

"It matters to me, Mr. Specter," she told him grimly. "This is my life that I'm in danger of losing to this self-righteous prick. Not yours."

"Pardon me," Mike said, leaning forward to get the woman's attention. "But with this pre-nup...you've already lost it. There's no point in you going to trial." She fixed him with her gaze and he sat back a little.

"And I'm telling you, for the last time...it was never meant to be real."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so...I don't usually write fanfiction, haha. As I said, I'm going to be trying to stick as close as possible to canon with the characters, especially Harvey. I am a huge fan of Harvey/Donna, but decided to go with an OC this time. Anyway. Onward into the depths of words and things!**


	2. Chapter 2: Spark of Hope

**Usual Disclaimers of Doom: I do not own Suits, OC's are mine, and all of that jazz.**

* * *

Harvey strode back to his office with Mike close behind. "Why are we trying this case, again?" Mike asked, letting the door swing shut behind them.

"We're not," Harvey said, settling in behind his desk. "She'd be crazy to continue with it. I sincerely doubt a judge would even let it into his courtroom before throwing it out." The annoyance was heavy in his voice. Mike sat down as well, the files held loosely in his hands.

"Yeah, but...she said that she didn't sign it," Mike pointed out. He knew just as well as Harvey that the odds of that were low, but sometimes he liked playing the devil's advocate.

"Of course she's going to say that. She was an idiot to sign it to begin with," Harvey said, glancing through some papers on his desk. "See, there's a pattern here. You should have picked up on that already. Oh, wait—"

"Yeah yeah, I didn't learn anything because I didn't go to Harvard, and all that. Got it!"

Harvey raised his eyebrows at the associate as Mike got up to leave. "You've got to come up with better material, Harvey," Mike said as he headed for the door. "I'm just saying," he muttered as he paused, one hand on the handle. "There could be something there."

"There isn't," Harvey told him. "Now go work on something worth my time."

Mike shrugged and walked out, passing Donna's desk with a smile and a wave. They did have another big case going. Something involving one of their larger business clients, the Gearhart case—apparently they were being sued for endangering their employees and not providing a proper work environment. He knew Harvey would want him to keep doing what he did best—dig through files, find the errors (or sometimes, the truths they had missed), make their case 100% airtight...but he had something else in mind. Granted, Harvey was probably right (he often was, after all) in that there wasn't much they could do for Lillian since she HAD signed the document, but...he told himself he was just making sure their case was solid. Yeah, that was it. Donna watched the associate make a beeline for the elevators and glanced back at Harvey. Hmm.

* * *

Lillian balled her hands into fists, remembering the meeting. How Alexander had laughed—yes, laughed! And told her he was going to take everything. The pre-nup said so. And his lawyer...well, to be fair (and she did try to be. Sometimes.) she had disliked Harvey Specter on sight. That little smirk of his...let's just say it gave her violent urges that she would have acted upon if, you know, she wanted to go to jail any time soon. This case was beneath him and they all knew it. It infuriated her that Alexander could afford to have such an aloof asshole represent him when she herself was saddled with Derek. She was on the _cusp _of making millions—she wasn't there yet, and so unfortunately, couldn't match Alexander on the financial level, or find anyone crazy enough to take her case pro-bono. God dammit.

"Derek," she repeated. Her best friend just blinked at her. "Ever heard of him? Derek Montal?"

"No," the brunette replied.

"_Exactly,_" Lillian snarled into her coffee. She couldn't help but channel her helplessness into anger. What else could she do? Curl up and die in a hole? Alex—no, _Alexander_—was trying to make sure of that. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Oh," she sighed, "Ruby, what am I supposed to do?"

How had everything gone so wrong in such a short time? It had only been a few days since their night in the club and now she was here, with a stress headache behind her eyes and coffee cooling rapidly in front of her. Would she even have that by the time this was done? Everyone deserves lukewarm coffee, don't they?

"You could settle," chirped an all-too-familiar voice from behind them. Ruby's immaculate eyebrows rose. Lillian eyed her coffee. She wondered how well his suit would fare against it.

Mike watched Lillian's shoulders go rigid. Her black hair shone bright in the sun, streaks of red peeking out from underneath the ebony. He took a step back as she turned, coffee in hand. "Um," he said.

"Eloquent," she told him. "What? I wouldn't _actually _dump this on you..."

"Oh, I wasn't worried," he said, unconvincingly. He wasn't Harvey Specter after all, and therefore, _not _the King of All that is Bluffing.

"...it's too cold by now," she finished sweetly. His discomfort increased. Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.

"Look, I come in peace," he said, raising his hands. Her brown-eyed friend gathered her purse and got up.

"I'll talk to you later," she said, and sauntered away, long legs drawing Mike's eyes against his will. Oh. Right. The case. He blinked and sat down opposite Lillian.

"Fine," Lillian said, "but my patience is waning by the second. Why are you even here? Trying to get me to just accept and hand off everything I've worked for, because Alexander is a dirty, lying bastard? Your boss couldn't even come himself, huh? Had to send his lackeys to—"

"Miss Elinor," Mike said, interupting her. Ah. Using her maiden name. Smartypants. "I'm not here to push you into anything. Based on what we have, I think it's in your best interest to just follow the pre-nup and not go to trial, because I think you _will _lose everything either way—please put the coffee down, at least let me finish!"

She practically growled at him. This woman was almost more terrifying than Harvey. Almost.

"Look," he said, and the earnest look on his face gave her pause. "Most exes do refer to their exes as, you know..."

"Dirty, lying, good-for-nothing—"

"Yes, thank you," he said, giving her a little bit of a smile. She refused to smile back. "So your claim that he is...any, or all, of those things, isn't really well founded. Especially since this is so fresh for you. The fact is that we DO have the document with your signature on it. But...you said that it isn't the right one. Didn't you?"

She nodded. What exactly was he fishing for, here? "Do I need to have my lawyer present for this?" she asked, caution riding high in her voice. Not that the man would really be useful, except for some handwringing and nervous glances. Yeah, that'd be helpful.

"No," he said. "Unless you'd feel more comfortable? I'm just curious as to what you have to say. What your side of the story is."

She sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, which he also had to keep his eyes away from. Then again, her striking gaze was hard to drop. "No. Why do you even want to talk to me? I'm not YOUR client. Does your boss even know you're here?" He shifted awkwardly. Her laugh was bitter. "Of course he doesn't."

"Lillian," Mike said as she gave her coffee one last longing look. "If what you're saying is true then..."

"Then what? You need to adjust your case to crush me?" she asked. Her pretty face was tired, he realized then. It hadn't been a long legal battle—yet—but it surely had been a long personal one. It had, after all, been all over the news. Alexander was the face of several corporations, and as such, everyone was in a tizzy about the divorce. They had seemed 'oh so happy,' after all.

"No," he said, and his voice was gentle. "We can already crush you. But I don't WANT us to crush you if you don't deserve to be crushed."

"Does anybody deserve to be crushed?" she asked. He laughed a little.

"Pearson Hardman is a very big, powerful firm," he said. "What do you think? People come to us, and to Harvey especially, for the sole purpose of crushing."

Lillian ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Look," she said, her voice soft. "Back before we got married Alex…" she caught herself. "…_zander,_ told me, jokingly, that we had to have a pre-nup because his father would never let him marry without one. I thought it was funny. Men with money...anyway. I was so in love with him." She laughed at herself then, wondering how she could have ever fallen in love with someone like Alexander. Although he hadn't been this way back then...hell, he hadn't been this way a week ago.

"I dared him, believe it or not. I told him he could write up the most ridiculous pre-nup he wanted—he could have my first born, he could have the moon, the stars, hell, even the shoes I was wearing at the time! Because I'd never cheat on him. So he did. And, as you can see, it is ridiculous." She stared into space a moment, remembering when she had first read the "official terms" on that scrap sheet of paper. All of her earnings, everything she had made, everything she owned...would go to him. At the time, that hadn't been much. But now she was going to be a successful author, whose books were going to be adapted into film...if, of course, they were still hers by the time it was over.

"So I signed it. We laughed about it. I have the original, somewhere...if I could find it, I'd show you. We signed our names with little hearts and...I think there was even glitter involved." She gave him a weak smile, and he wondered if her smile would ever reach her eyes again. "When we got married, I asked about the pre-nup and he told me he'd has his lawyer draw up something real simple. Just that if I were to cheat, he would keep what was his and I would get none of his wealth. I never asked to see it." She looked down. "Stupid," she muttered. Mike was frowning.

"But then...you _did _cheat," he said cautiously.

"No!" her eyes flashed. Then she faltered. "Well...maybe."

"What do you mean, maybe? Isn't that kind of a yes or no question?" Mike asked. She made a strangled sort of sound.

"I don't know! That's...that's the problem. He says I did...but...I don't remember. I know we went out to a club together and we got separated..." her voice trailed off. Something akin to fear crossed her face, and she shuddered. "I don't know. I don't know what happened. But I know that the pre-nup we signed 5 years ago was never meant to be the official document, and I'll be damned if I let him steal what I worked so hard to build. He has enough of his own money! I don't understand why he wants, or would even need, mine." She stared at Mike, who was drumming his fingers on the table.

"Okay," he said, standing abruptly. "Look, I don't want to promise you anything, but thank you for telling me. I'll see what I can do." With that, he practically sprinted off. She watched him go, and tried to crush the faint spring of hope blooming in her heart.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, okay, you REALLY can tell I don't write fics, haha! Reviews give me ridiculous happies. AND I forgot to mention when/where this is set-my apologies. This is inserted slightly-awkwardly into that weird place after Hardman returns, but before any serious crap happens. Not sure if that will have any bearing on this story yet, but you never know... :) The next chapter should be longer, as well-the first two were actually one to begin with but I decided to split them. Should be getting longer from here on out.  
**

**Also, I know next-to-nothing about law, so...literary license is going to be waved around a lot. I'll probably be doing research off and on to make it not TOTALLY lame, but I'm open to suggestions or if you notice something you know would be incorrect, feel free to point it out. Thanks for reading!  
**


	3. Chapter 3: Paradise Lost

**Disclaimer: I do not own Suits. Original Characters are mine. Yadda yadda. And all that other stuff.  
**

* * *

Sunlight filtered in through Pearson-Hardman's glass windows, streaking across the floor like a golden light show. It also repeatedly flashed in Mike's face as he walked by every potted plant, closed door, or moderately tall person. He was going to talk to Harvey about their little divorce problem, to see if he could get the older man to listen. What Lillian had told him outside had struck him hard, and he was determined to help her if at all possible. Now all he had to do was get Harvey on board. As he strode toward his boss's office, he tried to ignore the fact that the Mission Impossible theme was playing in his head. Mike liked doing things that people believed were impossible…but he was kind of hoping that this wouldn't be one of those things.

Harvey was at his desk, staring intently at his laptop, when Mike walked in.

"Where were you just now?" Harvey asked, not looking up from the screen.

"Uh..." Mike looked around. Yes, because there would totally be magic ninja waiting there to take the blame. Sure. That happens all the time in Manhattan, after all. "Harvey, you know there has to be more to this—"

"And _you _should know that there's not more to how much I care about this case," the older man snapped back. "We have an actual, you know, _real_ case to be working on. Or did you forget what real law looks like?"

"Harvey, this IS a real case," Mike protested. "Something isn't right and I'm going to figure out what it is." Stupid Mission Impossible theme. What a way to jinx everything!

"On your own time, maybe," Harvey told him, giving him was could only be construed as a dirty look. "This is only a 'real case' for those jackasses down in petty disputes. It's open, closed, done, now can we focus on the actual cases we have?"

"Really, Harvey? Come on! It's so obvious that—"

"That she's a manipulative crazy lady trying to get out of a document that she admits that she signed?" Harvey laughed and sat back for a moment. "You know, Mike, I realize that you don't actually know anything, but this one should be obvious even for you. She signed it! Is it a completely idiotic document? Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that she. Signed. It." He slapped his laptop closed and stood. "Now, I have actual, real, important lawyer-things to do. Are you going to go play with your toys, or are you going to do some real work?"

Mike's mouth hung slightly open. It stayed that way as Harvey strode by. Finally realizing that he boss was actually leaving the office and if he didn't say something he would have to chase after him, which was not only undignified, but would draw attention, he said "Well, even if you won't see it, I'll find it. Just give me a day, Harvey."

Harvey turned back for a moment. "Finish going through all the files on the Gearhartd—Langlie case," he said. Annoyance colored his voice. "All of them. I want each report on my desk before tomorrow morning." Mike blinked. Even for him, it would take at least two more days to get through all of those files.

"Now you're just being unreasonable," he said. Harvey scowled at him.

"Am I? I want your attention focused where I need it to be focused. Any guesses where that is?"

"Fine." Mike shouldered his messenger bag and met Harvey's gaze. "But when I get those files done, AND find whatever is going on with our un-important case, you owe me."

"Sure, maybe I'll hire you as a real lawyer someday." Harvey walked out the door with that, leaving Mike (for lack of a better term) sulking in his office. He walked out and stood by Donna's desk for a moment. She gave him a knowing look.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, watching Harvey stride down the hall away from them.

"Three guesses," he told her. He knew just as well as Harvey did that she listened to his private conversations. Which, really, meant they weren't exactly private anymore...but he didn't really care.

"I'll take Harvey is an asshole for 500," she said.

"Why is Harvey such a jerk? A, because he was Born That Way and secretly wants to wear a meat dress, B, that's just the way he is, or C, He's actually an alien mutant."

"B, definitely B," Donna responded. She shrugged. "Mike, you should know better than to expect warm fuzzies from Harvey. But for the record, I think you're right about the Hanovri case. Something is definitely wrong with that man." Mike gave her a smile.

"I'll find out what—as soon as I get through all of the other files for Harvey," he said with a sigh. No time like the present, he thought, and headed for the file room to start on them. Donna watched him go for a moment before she turned back to her own computer. Harvey _was _being slightly more dickish than usual. She'd have to ask him about that.

Walking back to his office, Harvey's thoughts were most certainly _not _on the divorce case. Until he saw Donna. With that look on her face. He groaned inwardly. She followed him inside.

"Stop looking at me like that," he told her as he headed for his chair.

"Why are you being such a jackass?"

"That's a pretty broad question, don't you think?" His lips quirked. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Come on, don't you think you're being just a little harsh with Alexander's case?" Harvey turned on his heel and looked at her. She blinked.

"What is it with everyone and this case?" he wondered out loud.

"Well, it IS kind of funny that the great and mighty Harvey Specter, best closer in New York, would be assigned..."

"Don't even say it," he muttered, dropping into his chair. As Donna opened her mouth to say it anyway, she quite literally saw the light bulb go on over that ridiculously handsome face of his. "THAT'S what it is!"

"...what?" She was extremely good at reading Harvey. Creepily so, in fact. That didn't mean he wasn't a confusing son of a bitch, though.

"You all are caught up in the story," he accused, drawing finger quotes around the word 'story.' "A romance of 5 years come to an end, with a millionaire and his blossoming wife fighting it out over who gets whose wealth—and who will win this epic battle?" he asked, his voice taking on an announcer's quality. Donna stared.  
"Okay, never do that again, first of all," she told him. He smirked. "Second of all..." she paused. He was kind of right. Pearson-Hardman handled many cases that made appearances in the media, but this one had caught _everyone's _attention. "Okay, fine," she said, gracefully lowering herself into a chair so she could stare at him a little bit more. Announcer voice. Seriously? "You have a point—"

"Of course I do."

"—but it's a SMALL one and really, you have got to quit interrupting people like that before somebody smacks you with their purse," she told him. His eyebrows went up.

"I didn't picture you as a purse-wielding kind of woman, Donna." She grinned.

"Little do you know, Harvey Specter. Little do you know. But seriously now, Harvey...do you hate this case just because of what it is? Or is it something else?"

"I don't see why this is so hard for everyone to understand," he told her. Annoyance radiated off of him. Donna was pretty sure that if she could figure out a way to harness that, she could power a small town with it. Hmm. "Pearson Hardmen doesn't _do _cases like this. Alexander, prick that he is, pulled some strings and asked Jessica personally—and we shouldn't be making an exception at all for him,_ especially_ for something this trivial."

"Uhuh." Donna got up. "What if you're wrong about it?" He gave her what she had fondly named the 'eye of death,' and she grinned at him. "It has happened before. I was there."

"And you promised not to tell," he said.

"True," she replied. "But that does take all the fun out of it. Why are you such a fun sucker?" He pointed at his door.

"Get out," he said, and she complied, giving him a knowing look over her shoulder. He resisted the urge to rub at his temples. Was everyone obsessed with this ridiculous issue except him? And he was the one assigned to it. Hah! The sooner he got Lillian to sign the settlement, the sooner he could forget about this mess and pretend that everyone wasn't talking about it when they thought he wasn't looking. Sure, a small part of him felt a little bit of pity for the woman. She didn't appear to want any of Alexander's money, just to keep what she was on the edge of producing—but who knew what scam she would try to pull if they gave her more than the little Alexander had agreed to? Frankly, he didn't really care. It just needed to go away. A thought crossed his mind. Mike had asked for some time, and while he trusted his associate, he truly believed that there wasn't anything else to find concerning Alexander's pre-nup problem. It was just a silly young woman who had signed an equally silly document and was trying to call foul about it. Enough about it, already!

Louis came practically bounding into his office, interrupting his thoughts. Harvey looked at Donna's suspiciously empty desk. Great. Now she was punishing him. Or she was just getting him coffee—it was about that time—and Louis took the golden opportunity to avoid having to buy new icepacks for the zingers Donna never failed to land whenever he approached.

"So, I hear you're—"

"Get out," Harvey told him. Louis gave him a feigned confused look, spreading his hands placatingly.

"What's the matter, Harv? H-dawg?"

"No."

"I still don't see your problem with h-dawg," Louis muttered.

"Did you want something? Or are you trying to be the world's worst office ornament?" Harvey asked, opening his laptop.

"No, no, I just came to see how the mighty have fallen," Louis said with a smirk.

"Really? I don't see a mirror anywhere," Harvey said.

"I meant—that's not—we don't even handle divorce cases," Louis said, trying and failing horribly to come up with a better retort.

"I guess Jessica just likes me more than you."

Louis's eyes narrowed. "Yeah well, if liking you means doing petty claims cases like that, then I think I like my office better than yours," he said.

"Enjoy the moment," Harvey said, "I hear small spaces can be good for people with issues like yours. Sometimes, they even come with rubber walls!" Louis glared at him.

"Whatever," he said with a sniff. "Anyway, I have a favor to ask—"

"Get out, Louis," Harvey said, his eyes shifting to see something behind the reddening bald man. Donna's heels clicked on the floor and Louis practically bolted from the office.

"I'll ask later," he said, and Donna gave him a raised eyebrow as he sidled away. "I was just talking...to…never mind." He walked off in a huff and she suppressed a laugh as she put Harvey's coffee on his desk. She put the envelope in her hand down beside it without commenting.

"You shouldn't toy with him," she said. "He's fragile, you know."

"Uh-huh," Harvey said, eyeing the coffee. "Which is why you're so delicate with him."

"Of course," Donna said, grinning. "When am I ever not delicate?" Harvey just smiled and shook his head as she waltzed away. Best. Assistant. Ever.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he opened the envelope, which was simply addressed to "Mr. Specter." The photos that slid out onto his desk had his eyebrows hitting the ceiling. If they had been detachable, it was likely they never would have come down. Which would have totally ruined his image. You can't intimidate people with no eyebrows. It just doesn't work. First, he put the photos back in the envelope. Then, he picked up his phone.

"Alexander." Harvey's voice was easy, smooth...and filled with a silent threat. "This case would have been over much sooner if you had shown me these to begin with. Yes. Do not play games with me. I'm representing you on this as a favor to Jessica, make no mistake. Yeah, you do that." Hanging up the phone, he shook his head. He really, really, REALLY did not like that man. There was just something about him that made Harvey want to punch him in the face. Must be the aura-a-la-douche. Getting up, he pocketed the envelope and left his office. _Sorry, Mike, _he thought. _But this is over now. _

* * *

Lillian looked at her phone. Four missed phone calls from Captain McDouchebag. Great. She sighed and put the phone away. She was sitting on a park bench, with her purse on one side and a file in her hand. The settlement wasn't bad, if you considered the circumstances. On one hand, there was losing everything she owned. Literally. The rights to her stories, the priceless artwork a dear friend had painted for her before passing away, even her cat. Yeah. The bastard would take the cat. The cat didn't even _like _him! She figured that was just his way of dancing around singing "Haha, I own everything, and I will rule the world someday" like some kind of evil genius. Minus, you know, all the stuff that makes evil geniuses cool. She just wished she knew how the hell she had ended up here. The club...everything had been normal. But a big chunk of her memory was missing, and when she had woken up the next morning, Alex had been screaming at her, saying he had found her in bed with another man—who was nowhere in sight—and that he was going to take everything. Lillian swallowed hard, remembering. He had cursed her. At her. And the worst part?

"I don't love you anymore," he had said. His voice had been like ice. "Get out of my house."

His house.

The one they had bought together 4 years ago. She had liked it because of the details, like the little nook off of the living room that she had filled with books. Her own personal library. Or the way the windows were so delicately shaped. He had liked the size. And the cost. Alexander had always had an eye for the expensive. She had packed her things and left, showing up at Ruby's door at 7am, tears in her eyes and no good explanation as to what had happened. Ruby was her best friend. She was also a hooker, which meant she kept late hours and 7am was no time to be talking about anything. By the time they had both woken up and Ruby was ready to listen, Lillian hadn't had much to say. She couldn't remember most of the night, after all, and Ruby...hadn't exactly been helpful.

"So how many guys did you bang?" her friend joked, bumping her arm. Lillian knew she had bruises on her body, but she couldn't figure out where from. She had just stared back in response. Ruby was also, to put it bluntly, kind of an insensitive bitch. But she usually didn't mean it. It was just her nature.

"Ruby, I...I didn't sleep with anyone," she said. "I would never cheat on Alex. I love him. I'm happy with him!"

"You just had too much to drink," Ruby had retorted, laughing. "And you can't remember, so who's to say you didn't? It's not a bad thing! You go girl!"

Oh yeah, she felt like going, alright. Insane, that is. Was that an option? Could she plead insanity? Her lawyer wouldn't know. The little worm had quit. He had left apologies behind him like the trail of a slug as he had fled the apartment, explaining that she couldn't win the case and he couldn't afford to represent her against Harvey Specter with such a weak case. Lost in thought, she hardly noticed the file falling to the grass at her feet. It didn't matter anyway. Mike Ross hadn't shown his face with any life-saving news, despite the bit of hope he had given her the day before. Perhaps he had done that on purpose. She wasn't sure.

And it began to matter even less as she noticed the tall figure strolling toward her. She wondered if there was a surgery available to let you shoot lasers from your eyes, because it sure as hell would have been a pretty useful skill just then. If the arrogant son of a bitch felt the anger radiating off of her, he didn't show it. Did he ever show _anything?_ As he stopped in front of her, he looked down at the file, which still lay on the ground. To her surprise, he picked it up, and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said through gritted teeth. Hmm. He was tall enough, and she was short enough, that it would be awfully easy just to punch him in the nuts... as if he sensed her thoughts, he distracted her by producing an envelope and putting it in her hands. If they were occupied, they couldn't exactly punch things, after all.

"Look, Lillian," he said. "Nobody wants this to be drug out any longer than it needs to be." _Especially me! _he thought. "Now...with those photos, my client is well within his rights to withdraw his settlement offer. However, in light of all the..." he paused. Sighed. "'Good times' he says you have spent together, he is willing to let the offer stand." He watched her face, hands in his pockets, as she slowly pulled the photos free of the envelope. Her fingers shook. The shock that flashed through her eyes was genuine.

She couldn't believe it. His words were bouncing off like little hailstones. She hardly felt them. The glossy prints didn't seem real. That couldn't be her body wrapped around that man. Could it? That man who was most certainly _not_ Alex. There were several of them. Different angles. Tangled sheets. Her own long, shining black hair. The stranger's muscled back, and large hands. She thought of the bruises she had found. Some were not yet faded. When she looked up at Harvey, there were tears in her eyes, and he blinked. He knew how to read people. He prided himself on that. And what he saw on her face made him feel..._bad. _Dammit. He should have made Mike come do this. However, Harvey Specter was not weak, and so did not back down. He did, however, gentle his voice.

"Are you ready to sign the papers?" he asked her. She looked at the photos again. A tear escaped from her eye and splattered on the glossy stranger's shadowy face. _Traitor, _she thought as she looked at it. Crying in front of Harvey Specter had most definitely not been on her list of things to do today. To her surprise, a handkerchief found its way into her hand. Her mouth moved before her brain.

"Who the hell still carries a handkerchief?" she asked, looking up at him in shock. His mouth twitched.

"Cultured people," he supplied. She just shook her head and went to hand it back, noticing that the initials H.S were embroidered into it. Good lord. "Keep it," he told her. She gave him a dirty look and shoved the photos back into the envelope. The silk square went into her pocket. Lillian didn't notice she was gripping the file so hard that it was steadily growing a crease. Harvey didn't comment on it. He wasn't that stupid.

"Fine," she said quietly. He tried to ignore the pang of sympathy. Helplessness was one of those feelings that he knew, but refused to ever acknowledge. Ever. "Let's go," she said, and started walking, not waiting for him. Finally, after 3 days of bickering back and forth, this ridiculous lawsuit would be over. So why did he feel so damn bad about it?

* * *

Finding herself once again at the polished, long table, Lillian stared at the stack of papers in front of her. He was, oh so graciously, allowing her to keep one of the four paintings her best friend of 18 years had painted for her before dying of cancer. One. She was also allowed to keep the rights to her first book. The rest would be transferred into his name—her name would grace the covers, but she would not receive any of the profits from them. He was keeping the house, but allowing her to keep the car. He had several of his own, after all. Oh, and look...he was even graciously allowing her to keep the cat. How nice of him. He had claimed their liquid assets as well. The joint bank account? His. Cash in the coffee can? His. Secret ninja sock stash of quarters? Also his. He was giving her a hundred thousand dollars to go start a new life, however. She was underwhelmed by the generosity. _Be grateful, _she thought, reading through the document one last time. _You could be walking away with nothing. _

It was funny how "something" sure felt a lot like "nothing."

* * *

**A/N: As promised, longer chapter. I really wanted to spend some time with each character, and definitely had to get some Louis in there! Hope you enjoy the read, and thank you all so much for the reviews thus far-they give me ridiculous happies. I hope you continue to enjoy. :) **


	4. Chapter 4: Kicking Puppies

**Disclaimer: I do not own Suits. Drat. OCs are mine.**

* * *

How long was too long, she wondered, to sit there and stare at the ceiling? Night had fallen, so Ruby was out doing...all of the fun things that hookers do at night. Lillian really didn't want to think about it. The cat, Rufus, was sitting on her stomach, purring like an obnoxious little motorboat. His weight was comforting. Usually she would push him off because for one thing, he was a big cat, and it was uncomfortable to have him sitting on her belly like that. For another, he tended to run in his sleep; which was why he was named Rufus. He had always been more dog than cat, anyway. She pet him as they laid there, counting the cracks in the ceiling. There were a lot of them. How long had Ruby lived here, anyway? She laughed at herself.

"I'm avoiding my own thoughts," she told Rufus. He purred louder. She just couldn't stop going back to that moment. There were several of these moments ingrained into her memory now, and today had added yet another to the list. Her hand hadn't even felt attached to her body. Yet she had watched the ink gracefully spell out her name at the bottom of the page, signing her life away. The look on Harvey Specter's face...her hand clenched. Rufus gave her a dirty look, and she let go apologetically. He went back to purring. He had just seemed so _bored. _Irritated, she was sure, that he was forced to handle the divorce to begin with. That much had been clear from the beginning. "Harvey Specter," she said aloud to the bare walls. "World's biggest asshole—right after Alex." the calico cat's ears twitched in agreement. Rufus had never liked Alex. She wondered how she had never seen the real man beneath all the charm.

Alex hadn't even deigned to be present when she had signed the settlement. Harvey's clipped voice had thanked her, before he took the papers away. She hoped to never see him again. Or maybe she did want to, if only to smack him upside the head for being such an uncaring—_That's not really fair, _she thought, her fingers tugging gently at Rufu's ears. Granted, Harvey _was _a jackass. But he was just Alexander's lawyer. It wasn't a personal vendetta. He was just doing his job. Rufus's tail brushed her hand. "Doing his job...like a jackass," she told the cat. He blinked his green eyes at her. Alexander was definitely at the top of the "Twatwaffling Douches I Want to Kill with a Dull Spoon" list. Harvey came second. She just couldn't let go how much it bothered her that he simply didn't _care._ Sure, logic easily trounced her by pointing out that—duh!—she wasn't his client, why the hell would he care? She figured it was akin to a complete stranger coming up to you on the street and saying "Hi, I hate you, you are stupid fat and ugly and you should die." Even though you don't know them and shouldn't really care what some random idiot has to say, the fact is..._you do. _Or at least she did. Ruby wouldn't have. Ruby would have laughed and danced away in heels too high for any regular person to walk on. Lillian just couldn't. She laughed at herself. 'Sensitive' is what other people would call it. She was just tired of being so weak. Rufus stretched his paws toward her face. She pet them idly.

What on earth was she going to do now? Her fingers traced circles in the calico fur as she thought. Lillian Elinor was not stupid—she was going to figure this out.

Later.

For now, she closed her eyes and refused to cry.

* * *

Harvey was twirling a pen in his hand, staring out at nothing. He was having an inner argument that anyone who knew him would have paid good money to listen to. After all, most people just assumed that Harvey Specter didn't even _have _feelings. Those who did know him knew this wasn't true, but he sure as hell didn't show them very often, either. So instead, he sat there spinning the poor helpless pen between his fingers, wondering why the hell he felt like he had kicked a puppy in the face. Repeatedly. He couldn't forget the way she had looked at him, with the hurt and shock in her eyes. And that was both annoying and concerning. Mostly annoying. As he had told Mike repeatedly...it was their job to win. He had won. The end. Except it wasn't. He wasn't any less annoyed by the time Mike walked in.

He looked at his associate, who held a stack of files in his hands. Mike proudly dropped them on his desk one by one. The younger man listed off each file as it fell, clearly happy with his work. Harvey's eyes narrowed.

"Good news," he said with a grin. "I'm _awesome._"

"Oh really? Do you have a diploma from the bullshit academy to go next to the one from Harvard?"

Mike gave him a dirty look. "No, but I do have a stack of finished files for you, in half the time it would have normally taken. I'm like the Flash. It counts!"

"How did you finish this so quickly?"

Mike had the decency to look guilty.

"I...may have asked Rachel to help me." Harvey just shook his head and looked at the stack.

"I thought you and Rachel..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Mike said quickly.

"Uhuh," Harvey said. That suited him fine for the moment. He didn't want to talk either. Not really. But Mike was still standing there, looking at him with a grin that quickly spread from ear to ear. "...Are you just going to stand there or are you going to tell me what the ridiculous look on your face is for?" Harvey asked, his voice mild. His associate dropped one last folder on his desk.

"Boom! Alexander," he said with a tone coated in satisfaction. "Is a lying son of a bitch."

Harvey just looked at him. His stomach felt...well, like he had just kicked that puppy in the head. Again. And then watched it roll down some stairs. And possibly into a cactus patch. God dammit. "And what led you to this conclusion?" Harvey asked. Hah! As if he'd let Mike know that he suddenly felt like Douchebag number One on the chart of Douchebaggery. He pulled the file toward him, refusing to show his reluctance. Opening it just made his stomach tighten further. His eyes narrowed. "Is this...?"  
"Yep!" Mike's smile could have lit up the room. "He's broke! Completely, totally broke. His corporations are on the edge of collapse. They've kept it quiet so their stock doesn't drop, but if you notice, they've been selling bits and pieces for several years now, trying to cover losses. And this is just the preliminary—it was all I could find with the time frame."

Harvey was already putting the pieces together. "He needed Lillian's money," he said. Anger flashed over his face.

"Exactly," Mike said, dropping himself gracelessly into a chair. Harvey took a moment to look over the financial records Mike had found again. Well, that explained why the man had clung so tightly to everything that was written in the pre-nup. Any man who claimed to love a woman wouldn't have so readily ripped away everything she had like that. A desperate man who needed money, however…He had started hemorrhaging cash 4 years ago. The year after they married. That was interesting. He turned back in to Mike's voice, catching the tail end of whatever he had been saying.

"...so," Mike finished, "If Lillian didn't cheat, we can nail him for lying, and for damages, and—"

Harvey cut him off. "We could, if she hadn't actually done it."

Mike blinked. "What?" Harvey pulled the envelope with the damning evidence from beneath the pile of paperwork and tossed it to Mike. The younger man slumped when he looked inside. "Oh." Then he shot up straight again. "But don't you think the timing is pretty convenient? I mean, the man is on the brink of losing everything and then his wife suddenly cheats? When she hasn't ever cheated before? I bet you anything there's more on this guy, Harvey...just give me a little more time to find it, okay?" He hesitated a moment. The words went unsaid. He just wanted to help. Harvey wouldn't admit it, but he did, too. And Mike had a point—the timing WAS convenient, considering. He looked at the file quietly for a moment. Yeah. Married women were nothing but _trouble. _

"For one, this is the first time she was ever _caught,_" he pointed out. "For another, it's a waste of time. Lillian signed the settlement papers this afternoon." He sat back in his chair and watched Mike's face go from surprise to outrage.

"Why did you let her do that?"

Harvey's eyebrows rose slightly. "Because it was my job. She screwed another man, Mike. You saw the photos. Alexander may be a prick, and the timing might be convenient, but the pre-nup still stands." Before Mike could launch into a protest, he continued. "I'll look into it. I need you to continue focusing on the Gearhart case." Which is what _he _should be doing, not looking into that asshole's background. Still...he didn't believe in coincidences. He also despised being lied to. If Alexander had hidden the fact that he was losing his money (and rapidly, at that) perhaps there was more he hadn't told the firm about. After all, the case was open-and-shut, right? Harvey cursed silently. Even if Lillian _had _cheated—no, she _did_, he reminded himself—if things had been orchestrated so that she would lose everything on purpose, well...he had a problem with that. However, it was a personal problem. Therefore, it had nothing to do with Pearson-Hardman. As far as the firm was concerned, he had done his job, and done it well. As always.

"Fine," Mike said, "I don't need your permission to work on it when we aren't in the office."

"If you want to waste your time, that's fine," Harvey told him, closing the file. "Just so long as you make sure the Gearhart case is airtight. Understood?" If he was going to be wasting _his _valuable time making sure he hadn't made a mistake by so readily closing Lillian, then Mike sure as hell could make sure their real cases weren't going to suffer for it. For a moment, he contemplated switching their roles. Mike could handle Lillian just as well, if not better (since she might not see Mike as a giant douchewagon) than he could. He held his tongue however as Mike got up.

"Do you even have a soul, Harvey?" Mike asked him. As the question left his mouth, he winced. He knew that his boss was capable of emotion. Sometimes. He was selective in where and how he showed it, though, which frustrated the hell out of the associate. His gut said that this case was _wrong, _and Harvey just didn't seem to care overmuch. The older man's expression was dark.

"No," he said, "Sold it to the devil years ago in exchange for enough patience to deal with _you. _I've told you before, Mike. This is the job. Sometimes, you just have to _do your job._ I said I would look into it. That not enough for you?" Mike was silent. He knew he had crossed the line, at least a little bit. The fact was that he _did _trust Harvey. If he said he was going to look into it, then he would. If there was something wrong, then he'd fix it. That would have to be good enough. After all, if they both decided to start rooting around in Alexander's life, someone might get suspicious. He sighed.

"Now, get out of my office." Harvey looked back at his computer screen, effectively dismissing his associate. He was more than a little irked, which _did _show. Mike headed for the door. He paused when he got there.

"Sorry, Harvey. That was out of line. This case just—"

"I know you well enough by now," Harvey growled. "Come on, Mike. You do pro-bono cases in your _free time. _You don't think I'd know how you feel about this one?" Mike saw lost puppies in every case it seemed. Sometimes that worked in their favor. And sometimes Harvey used it to win. Just not in the way Mike would have liked. The younger man held up his hands in defeat.

"Alright, alright," he said. "I'll make sure everything is set up and ready to go with the Gearhart case." As he exited the office, Harvey's dry voice followed him out.

"And let me know if you find anything else."

Mike grinned and walked away, not bothering to respond. He would, and Harvey knew it.

After his associate had left, however, Harvey poured himself a drink and stood in front of the windows, looking out at the city lights. His arrogance, though it was a huge part of him, was also a tool, and he often used it as such. But oh, how he hated feeling as if he had used it on the wrong person. He had managed to avoid this particular…sensation…for the majority of his career, but although Harvey was an amazing lawyer, he was still human, and sometimes… He sighed. It was partly Mike's fault, too—before he had come bouncing along into Harvey's life, he probably wouldn't have been near as annoyed by this. He went over the case again in his head. Had he done anything wrong? No. In fact, he had just done his job. Maybe a little too well. If he was nice to all of his opposing female clients, he would have to get a bigger stick to beat them off with. His behavior hadn't been much different with Lillian than it had been with any other poor woman (or man) who ended up on the wrong side of Harvey Specter. He needed more information. Then he would know how to proceed.

Tossing back the rest of his drink, he shrugged into his suit jacket and headed out the door. If his speculations were right—oh, who was he kidding, he knew they were—Lillian's friend Ruby was going to be standing on a street corner tonight, which left him a wide-open window to approach the divorcee. He waited for the elevator a moment and smirked to himself. At the very least, it promised an interesting close to his evening. With that, Harvey glanced one last time at the address in his phone and set off to see Lillian.

* * *

"Know what else goes with thought-avoidance?" she asked Rufus. He looked up at her from the floor and meowed. "No, you know I hate Pilates. The answer is..." she flung open the freezer. "Ice cream!" Ruby never failed to come through. Her brown-haired friend was selfish, yes, and fairly oblivious at times, but she always kept a stash of the S'mores ice cream that she knew Lillian went for when feeling upset. Of course, there was a warning attached to it.

_If you eat all of this, you're going to get fat, _it said, in Ruby's graceful handwriting. She rolled her eyes. _But, _the note continued, _just in case...there are two more in the back. Love you, butterball! _She smiled in spite of herself. "At least I can count on Ruby for the ice cream supply," she told Rufus. She hopped up on a stool at the counter and stuck a spoon in it. Her cat sat in front of her and stared up at the spoon, his face hopeful.

She shook her head at him and tried to enjoy her ice cream without thinking. Except that was near impossible at this point. Well, she had a plan! Sort of. Right? Rufus wound around the stool, bumping her foot with his head. She looked at him thoughtfully. She did have some money. The car was in her name, and paid off already. That had been the first thing she had done when she had finally landed a good job, working as a receptionist for Gearhart Industries & Abstergo, which was not far from their house. A frown crossed her face when she remembered it. Alexander had moped for days afterward and less than 6 months later she had quit at his request. He insisted that she was an excellent writer, and shouldn't waste her time on anything else. He had been right. How lucky for him.

Lillian was almost glad for the knock on the door. It would keep her from thinking. Unfortunately, not thinking was also not a good idea at 10:00 at night, in New York. Especially when one happens to be alone in an apartment. Lucky for her, it was not a would-be rapist, or someone trying to sell drugs. It was also not Superman. Or even Batman. Darn her luck. She almost would have preferred the rapist or the drug dealer. _Those _people she could punch. In the face—and not feel bad about it as a bonus. What she _couldn't _do was punch Harvey Specter.

The man stared at her. Lillian flushed, suddenly realizing what she was wearing. Her baggy plaid pajama pants, combined with the long, loose (not to mention partially see-through, thank god for the tank top she had on under it!) blue shirt, did not a put-together look make. Especially not with her dark hair half piled on top of her head, half falling down around her face. His eyes went to the ice cream, which was still in her hand, and then to the spoon, which was in the other. It was also loaded.

"Jesus," she said.

"I prefer to think of myself as—"

"Okay," she interrupted him, eyes narrowed. His eyebrows went up as she pointed her spoon at him. The dairy product was cold enough (for the moment) to still be sticking, but it would be melting soon. "Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't ruin that nice suit of yours, and then maybe, just _maybe,_ I'll put this in my mouth instead of on that suit. Looks expensive."

"It is," he told her, watching the spoon from the corner of his eye. "I need to talk to you about Alexander." Lillian laughed, and the sound was harsh.

"What the hell are you doing here, Harvey? I'm _not _your client. You did your job. Now fuck off." She stuck the spoon in her mouth purely to keep herself from sticking her tongue out at him, and went to shut the door. He put a hand on it, and she realized suddenly that he really was quite a bit larger than her, and if he didn't want her to shut the door, then there would be no shutting the door. Drat.

"I know that," he told her, "and I get why you're pissed—"

Lillian practically spit the spoon out as fury made her green eyes flash. "Oh, _do you really? _You _dare _come here and try to say that you _understand? _You are _such _a jackass, Mr. Specter. You have _no idea _how I feel right now."

"You seem to be dealing fairly well," he said, and his sharp brown eyes were focused on her face. She wondered if he could see through her to the wall behind her. She let the door swing open and slammed the ice cream down on the counter. Harvey stepped inside and shut the door, giving the apartment a quick once-over. Definitely a big change to what she was used to living in, he was sure.

"Oh really? And how the fuck do you know how I'm dealing?" she demanded. Both of her hands were on her hips, and a large calico cat poked its head out from behind her leg to give Harvey a dirty stare. Harvey made a vague gesture at her face.

"Your eyes aren't red. You haven't been crying." He pointed out, looking closer. She folded her arms and looked away.

"So what?"

"You aren't even in love with Alex anymore, are you?" his voice was smug. Lillian gave him her best version of an eat-shit-and-die look.

"Again, I ask you...why are you here? And why does it matter if I'm still in love with my _ex-husband_ or not_?" S_he stressed the words.

"It doesn't," Harvey said, "but at least we know _why_ you cheated." She looked at the ice cream. Thought about throwing it at him. The visual made her feel slightly better. Ah yes, Harvey splattered with chocolate and marshmallows...scratch that, it made her feel a _lot _better.

"Okay, you know what...no. I'm not in love with him anymore," she said, her voice sharp. She had realized it herself not long ago. Oh, she was hurt, yes. Deeply. But not as much as she expected herself to be. She wasn't laying around the house, crying for hours, wishing to get him back and fix their marriage. Analyzing the last five years of her life had shown her that while the first year had been amazing, Alex had grown steadily distant from her the longer they spent together. She had explained it away at the time, hoping she was wrong...but she knew better now. Funny how much you can grow up in 3 days. "I was kidding myself. I was an idiot. I thought he loved me, and I didn't notice that we were growing apart. I guess that's why it was so easy for him to do this," she said. Her eyes met Harvey's again. Ugh, was that sympathy in his eyes? "Happy now? Morbid curiosity satisfied? Ready to get the hell out of this apartment? Regularly that would take five easy payments of 19.99 you know, but for you, it's free!" His lips twitched. "And, just for the record, I did _not _have an affair."

"Oh really? What do you usually call ending up in bed with another man? Pilates?" He didn't miss the way she flinched.

"What is _with _people and Pilates?" she questioned the air. There was no way in hell she was going to tell him that she just...didn't remember. He'd laugh. Probably do some kind of touchdown-lawyer-victory-dance. Nobody likes that.

"What have you got against Pilates?"

"_Ugh! _Why are you _here?_" she demanded again. "Did you come down here solely to be a jerk? Do you not have enough people to taunt at Pearson-Hardman? I _know _that's not the case. I've seen Louis."

He had to smile at that. Her question hung in the air. Oh, right. He _had _come here for a reason, after all, though his time was already well-spent if you considered the Louis-jab. "Look," he said, "You're right. I _did _do my job. But a few things have come to my attention, and I want to make sure we didn't miss anything that is going to come back and bite us in the ass."

"Right," she said, sarcasm heavy in her voice. "Yeah, hang on, let me just find a lawyer to represent me while I dig up something to sue you with. Oh, wait...there _is _nothing. Can't sue you for being a dick, after all. Any lawyer in this city would jump at the chance to beat you, if they had a moth's chance in a forest fire. But there isn't. Okay? Your precious ass—" she looked down. "And those shoes, are safe." He just stared at her. He supposed it made sense to assume that he was making sure she had no plans to come after the firm for any reason. However, it was her ass he was wondering about, not his.

"Did you know that Alexander was losing money?"

"What?" Lillian stared at him. "Wait...what are you talking about? The man is loaded, always has been. Hence, you know, the pre-nup from hell." Her heart ached. Could that have been why he had stuck so closely to the agreement in the first place?

"So you didn't know."

"Of course not," she said softly. She sat down on the barstool and just stared at him. "So he really did need my money. Because he's got none." Harvey gave her a nod.

"It looks that way. You really didn't know?"

"No," Lillian said. "Where did it all go?" Harvey shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Oh, right," she said with a sigh. "You can't tell me because of the confidentiality thing."

"Actually," Harvey said. "We found this information outside of the case. So it's not privileged. I just have a hard time believing you didn't know about this."

"Alex handled the money," she said, "we had a joint bank account that he always added to, and I didn't have access to anything else, so..." She rubbed at her temples and wondered if she could bill Alex for all the headaches he gave her. She didn't notice the calculating look on Harvey's face.

"Do you know where he got the money he was adding?" he asked. There had been no sign of any influx of cash in Mike's report, and he doubted the kid would have missed something. So where had that money come from?

"No," Lillian said. "I assumed it was from his businesses, obviously." Dropping her hands, she stared at him. "Look, this is all well and good for understanding why he turned into such a douchenugget, but why are _you _here? Trying to make sure there isn't some weird elaborate scheme going on? The fact that that he's losing money doesn't matter. The photos say I cheated, so the pre-nup still stands," she said. He didn't miss how she had phrased that. Hmm. Why was she so adamant that she hadn't screwed another man, when all the evidence screamed that she had?

"It doesn't matter to the _case," _he said. But it mattered to him. No way in hell he was going to say that, though. So he chose a different phrasing. "If Alexander was losing money, and was desperate enough..." he tried to coax her toward the answer. And had to laugh to himself when he saw the light bulb go on.

"You're suggesting that he could have set me up," she said slowly.

"So, I need you to tell me honestly. Did you cheat on him?" She blinked, and he was a lot closer than she remembered him being a moment ago. Honesty. She was good at honesty. But uncertainty hung on her face. "Lillian." His voice was stern. "What happened?"

"I don't understand," she said slowly. "Why does it matter to you? You did your job, you won, isn't that all there is to it?"

"Not for me," he said. She tried to read his face, and was highly unsuccessful, much to her annoyance. "I don't like being on the wrong side of right."

"Ah," she said, and suddenly understood. That was interesting. "And what would you even do," she asked, "if I hadn't cheated?"

"Then I'd kick his ass," Harvey said. Oh, had he said that out loud? Whoops. "I don't like games," he said, giving her a hard look. "And I have no patience for liars. Now, if you'd like me to help you, you need to tell me the truth about whatever happened that night."

She couldn't help it. She laughed. "Harvey Specter, my ex-husband's lawyer, trying to help _me._"

"No need to get hysterical," he muttered. Sometimes, trying to do the right thing was more of a patience test than anything else. He wasn't sure he would pass at this rate.

"I'm sorry," she said, and meant it. "But you have to appreciate the irony." He inclined his head. "And, despite the fact that I still think you're a giant ass—"

"Thank you," he interjected.

"—I appreciate the time you took coming down here to tell me about this. But I can't tell you about that night."

His gaze hardened. "And why not?"

Lillian shifted, uncomfortable. "Because I don't remember." The words just leapt from her lips. She braced herself for his laughter, for him to turn on his heel and walk out, probably in a cloud of sparkles and rainbows, knowing that there really, truly, wasn't anything more to this divorce.

None of that happened. Much to her surprise, he just stood there and looked at her. Many responses crossed his mind, and he said none of them. He believed her, much to his _own _surprise.

"How can you not remember?" He finally asked. She just shrugged and stared at the floor. She had asked herself that question so many times.

"I don't know," she whispered, and he suddenly saw past the fiery temper to something much, much more fragile. Harvey was not the hugging type.

So he stood there.

"I know it's hard to believe," he said, his voice dry. "But I do want to help you. If you were wronged here, then I want to fix it. I can't do that unless you talk to me." And he really, really, _really _wanted to stick it to that prick if this was the case. Lillian rubbed at her arms as she looked at him.

"Thanks. I'd tell you if I knew," she said. "Honestly."

"Then tell me what you _do_ know," Harvey said. His eyes searched her face. She was holding back something, he just wasn't quite sure what. She gave him a slightly annoyed look, and he smirked. Good. He didn't like fragile-Lillian. That just brought out a whole range of emotions in him, none of which he particularly wanted to show anybody.

"You're a pushy sonuvabitch," she told him, but she went on. "I'm being honest with you here. I remember going to the club with him, I remember him letting go of my hand and vanishing, and then I had a drink, and then the next thing I know I'm waking up at home with my husband screaming at me." She ran a hand through her hair, dislodging the pile which had only perched precariously up there before. A single bobby pin escaped to the floor. He tried not to laugh as her hair tumbled around her face. Her expression was priceless as she gave that pin the most betrayed look you could imagine.

"You had a drink?" Harvey asked, running the scenario through his mind again.

"Yeah," she said, meeting his gaze again. "One!"

"What kind of lightweight are you?" he asked, his voice incredulous. She practically growled at him.

"Hey! I handle my liquor just fine, you patronizing little—"

"Okay, first of all," he said, cutting her off. "If anyone is going to be little in this conversation, that would be you. Have you seen how short you are?" She bristled.

"Have you heard? There's an anti-growth thing out for guys," she said, looking deliberately at his crotch. "One dose and they're half the size!"

He took a step back, just in case. Lillian grinned at him. "Problem?"

"You're losing focus," he told her, preferring not to answer. Of course there was a problem! Ball-kicking is always a problem. Always. No exceptions. Lillian shrugged.

"You're the one who had to insult my alcohol intake," she told him. Another, darker thought crossed his mind. He kept it to himself.

"Right." He debated for a moment. Based on what she had told him, she had given him plenty of reason to move forward in investigating Alexander's...dealings. She was right in that he couldn't get her the life she had back, but he could certainly find a way to stick it to that asshole. It would just take a little time. "What club were you at?" he asked offhandedly. She told him. He nodded.

"Heard enough?" Lillian asked him as he turned toward the door. Harvey looked back at her. He wondered if she knew how attractive she was with her hair tumbling down her shoulders like that. His memory had been correct after all—she _did _have a nice body. Even if it was currently clad in pajamas that were way too big for her. What was she, anyway? 5'4? Jesus.

"Yes," he said. "Thank you. For what it's worth..." he hesitated. "...I'm sorry." She laughed, and he narrowed his eyes at her. Didn't she know? Harvey apologies were worth their weight in gold! And possibly diamonds. And other sparkly things.

"Oh, Harvey, don't bother. You just did your job. I already knew you were a jackass," she said. Her chest tightened as he smiled. That man was nothing if not attractive. Make that _extremely _attractive. "So...are we done?" she asked him as he turned the handle. She almost hoped he'd say no.

As he stood there, looking at a recently divorced woman that he had wanted nothing to do with less than 3 days ago, he felt his mouth move. Hey, who authorized that?!

"Have dinner with me," he said. God dammit. Her eyebrows rose. He waited, cursing inwardly, perfectly normal outwardly. What was he doing? Going anywhere with her was _not _a good idea. Especially since she had cheated on her husband. And yet, he stood there. Waiting. His mini-panic attack subsided then, as he realized that he could turn this slip-of-the-tongue to his advantage.

"Dinner." She repeated, stunned. "With you."

"Got someone else in mind?" He asked her. She just stared at him in shock. Harvey had just asked her to dinner. What (the actual fuck) was going on?

"You never showed any kind of interest in me before," she said cautiously. "Especially not like...that."

"I don't do married women."

His response was quick, and sharp.

"Um, well you won't be 'doing' me, either," she said, giving him a dirty look.

"It would be slightly difficult to 'do you' at dinner," he said, "but, you know, if you're into that kind of thing..." She laughed. It surprised both of them. Getting up, she opened the door for him and he stepped out onto the dirty stairs. Her fingers grazed his arm, and he looked at her.

"Thank you for coming," she said, quickly drawing her hand back. "I appreciate the, um...information." He nodded and stepped back.

"So, is that a yes or no?" he asked, a smile playing around his eyes. She grinned at him.

"My ice cream is melted because of you," she informed him. "You owe me _way _more than dinner." His eyebrows went up.

"Oh really? And what would that be?"

"I'll let you figure it out," Lillian told him, and with a smirk on her face, she shut the door in his.

* * *

**A/N: Cue even LONGER chapter! I just couldn't bear to cut this one down. Plus, you guys have been so great that you deserve it. Yay! Quick shout-out to my wonderful editors...Shiny and Jmirackles 3 They both have read through all my work thus far and they are so sweet to do so! Thank you guys, I would be too chicken to post without you. Still clinging to canon as much as possible! Already started on Chapter 5...mwahaha! Thank you for reading! I appreciate all of you. **


	5. Chapter 5: Unease

**Disclaimers: I don't own Suits. Sadface.**

* * *

Harvey sat at his desk, a baseball in one hand and a file in the other that his eyes were currently fastened to. It had been two days since he had seen Lillian, but currently, the Gearhart vs Langlie case was occupying his mind. There wasn't anything here. That was the problem. There didn't seem to be any reason for Langlie Entertainment Inc to file a lawsuit at all...and yet they were. There had to be something they were missing. Not that _he _was missing, mind you. If anything was missing, it would be all Mike's fault. Because Harvey's thoughts were just that powerful, his associate walked in with two more folders in his hands.

"Here," he said, handing them over to Harvey, who reluctantly put the baseball down. "I didn't find anything else in their files. By the way, did you tell Louis he could dump five new cases on my desk?" Harvey glanced inside briefly.

"No," he said, "Just ignore Louis. There's nothing here," he said, tossing them to his desk. "You didn't find anything useful?" He had more important things to think about than the irritating junior partner who had never returned for his 'favor' anyway.

"No," Mike said, an apology in his voice. "Everything is right there. The financials are good, business ethics are good, there just doesn't seem to be anything in the boxes they gave us that would indicate that Langlie even has the grounds to sue. "

"Which means that either they're hiding something from us, or Keith has something up his sleeve." Harvey stared into space for a moment, looking right through Mike to his record shelves. Mike turned to look behind him, and then back at Harvey. He was poised to make a snarky comment when Donna's voice rang through the intercom, startling both of them.

"Harvey, Keith and his lawyer are waiting in the conference room," she said.

"What?" Harvey shot to his feet. "That meeting isn't until next week!"

"Do you want me to go shoo them out? With a broom, maybe?"

"I'd prefer a shotgun," he growled, and stalked out of his office. "Mike, come."

The associate protested as he followed anyway, something about not being a puppy, but Harvey wasn't listening. He was thinking about how he'd really like to throw Keith Yilardo out the window, if he were prone to such things. His lawyer could go, too. It could be a two for one kind of deal! He didn't particularly like going into things unprepared, and since they hadn't found anything that would show their clients had done wrong, he knew he was walking into the meeting blind. It made him irritable, to say the least. Or prickly. Actually, think of him as a walking cactus and you get the idea.

When he walked in, he barely spared Keith's lawyer a glance, focusing directly on the man himself as Mike stood to the side, taking Harvey's lead and refraining from sitting down. Harvey's eyes were dark with annoyance as he assessed the two sitting at the table.

Keith Yilardo was a tall man, though not as tall as Harvey, and obviously spent one (or five) too many days at the gym, for his arms strained his suit, which had obviously been made for him at a different time in his life. He was the CEO and Director for Langlie Entertainment, a company that had started shortly before Gearhart, but had never seen the same success. Apparently, people would rather fling little unicorns across the screen and destroy little trolls than tilt their screen to get a ball in a hole. Keith's eyes were blue and calculating as he looked Harvey up and down. Must. Resist. Urge to punch.

Beside the more-than-slightly sleazy Keith sat Levi Hillrest, his lawyer, a senior partner at competing firm Wakefield-Cady. He fixed Harvey with his stare. "Nice of you to show up," he said, a sneer at the edge of his lips. Mike looked between them, surprised at the hostility. Then again, Harvey had thoroughly trounced the law team at Wakefield-Cady more than once, so perhaps it wasn't so hard to understand after all.

"Gentlemen," Harvey said, keeping his feet. "This meeting was set for next week. What was so urgent that you had to rush over here and invite yourselves in?"

Keith smirked and folded his arms. His suit protested weakly. Poor seams didn't stand a chance, really. Levi pulled a file from his briefcase and tossed it to the table between them. "You're going to want to look at that," he said smugly, "and then you're going to want to sign this." The second folder was heavier than the first.

Harvey didn't touch either of them. "Why don't you just tell me what this is about, first, and then we'll talk about your special papers," he said.

"You're damn right those papers are special!" Keith's voice instantly rose and his lawyer gave him a warning look.

"They better be encrusted in diamonds, then," Harvey returned. "Because our clients haven't done anything wrong, and your lawsuit is as ridiculous today as it was last week."

"I think after you read that," Levi said, nodding his head at the sadly encrustless paper, "You'll think differently." Mike picked up the slimmer folder and glanced inside. His eyebrows rose as Harvey looked at him.

"This says...that...Simon and Toby boxed him out of the company," Mike said slowly. Harvey snatched the file from him and looked at it himself. There were several pages of emails between Keith and the two founders of Gearhart, graced with a document naming all three of them as founders.

"As you can see," Levi said, his grin doing absolutely nothing for Harvey's simmering anger, "my client was unfairly pushed out of his company simply because your clients were too greedy to allow him to stay. Now. That," he nodded at the second folder, "is our settlement offer. Keith would be well within his rights to ask for partial control of the company again. However, he has been so hurt watching his two old friends enjoy the success that he was so cruelly cut out of, that he would prefer to keep this civil. We are suing for wages lost—back pay for the past 3 years, and a share of the profits Gearhart has made as a result of his ideas."

"Simon has never mentioned you," Harvey said, zeroing in on Keith. He received a glare in return.

"Of course not," he said with a growl in his throat. "They stole my idea and illegally kicked me out because they're selfish, entitled assholes. You really think they'd talk about it after that?"

"No," Harvey said, and it burned his throat to agree with the sleazeball. Too bad setting important legal documents on fire is mostly illegal. Okay, entirely illegal. Those fun-suckers. "They wouldn't."

"You're legally obligated to—"

"Take that smug look off your face? Yes I am," Harvey said. "Which is what is going to happen when I figure out just how you managed to create a document like this when it never existed in the company records before now. Feel free to show yourselves out." Harvey left the room and Mike quickly followed, cringing at the ire he knew was to be directed his way in 3...2..

"How could you have missed that?" Harvey didn't turn to yell at him. He just went to his desk, sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and fixed Mike with a stare that probably should have set him on fire. Or at least struck him with lightning.

"Harvey," Mike said, his tone pleading. "It wasn't there! I've been over all of these files that Simon gave us and that document was _not _in there." He shifted uncomfortably under Harvey's stare and, when the older man said nothing, threw up his hands. "Come on, Harvey! If I had seen it, you know I would have told you that there was someone else involved in starting Gearhart."

"No," Harvey said, finally turning to the phone. "But Simon should have. Get out, I need to make a call. And go _back _over the files and make sure you _didn't _miss anything, got it?"

"Yeah," Mike muttered. He turned on his heel to leave as Harvey picked up the phone. Harvey's irritated voice followed him out.

"Simon," he said. "Have you got something to tell me?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Simon's voice rolled through the phone like thunder. But his apparent annoyance was nothing compared to Harvey's.

"Keith Yilardo," Harvey replied. There was silence at the other end.

"Oh," Simon said, and the storm was gone from his voice.

"Oh," Harvey replied. "Get down here. Both of you." He dropped the phone back into the cradle and took a moment to stare moodily into space. Donna came in with coffee in one hand and a slim envelope in the other.

"Bad day already?" she asked. Of course, she already knew.

"Those idiots," he told her. "They should have known better." She put the coffee down and twirled the envelope between her fingers.

"Maybe it was an accident," she speculated.

"Yeah, and maybe I'm Batman."

"Are you?" Her eyes were wide in mock-surprise. He rolled his eyes at her, but felt his mood lift. "I knew it! Alright then, Batman," she said, putting the envelope down beside his coffee. "I believe you requested these?"

"Thanks," he said, not bothering to glance inside. If Donna said she would get tickets to the exclusive writer's conference taking place in the pretty IAC building then she would.

"So," Donna mused. He knew where this was going. He also knew it was inevitable. So he took a drink of coffee and just gave her a patient stare. "A writer's conference...and a fancy one at that! Hmm, obviously you're doing this for that divorcee of Alexander the Douchebag, the question is...why?"

"Research," he told her. Donna snapped her fingers.

"You melted her ice cream, didn't you."

"What? How do you even...?"

"Maybe _I'm _Batman." Donna smirked at him and walked out of his office then, leaving him speechless at his desk. That woman never ceased to surprise him. Of course, that's what he loved about her. He tucked the envelope into his suit pocket and stood. Simon and Toby would be here any minute. He met Mike at the conference room and the associate gave him a helpless shrug.

"I'm telling you, Harvey," he said. "That document is not in any of the files I have." Harvey gave him a nod and stepped inside. The two founders of Gearhart & Abastergo followed on their heels, having nearly sprinted from the elevators.

"What's this about Keith?" Simon demanded, his red hair flying about his head. Harvey raised an eyebrow. The man looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Simon ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he appeared to have already done two hundred times prior. Toby was quiet as he gently pushed Simon into a seat and took one himself. Then again, Toby had always been the softer of the two. Three, apparently, Harvey amended in his head.

"Why don't you tell me?" Harvey said, his tone amiable. His eyes were anything but as he tossed the two files on the table between them. "That is a document that you have never shared with me, or anyone else at the firm. And that," he added, pointing at the thicker folder. "Is a settlement offer that Keith has generously put on the table. Now, I need you to be honest with me before I tell that guy to shove it up his—"

"Dammit," Simon swore. Silence fell over the room as he tossed the folder away. Toby glanced at it and turned his quiet gray eyes to his partner. Harvey put his hands in his pockets and waited. "I'm…" Simon looked at Toby. The smaller man smiled a little and supplied the word.

"Sorry," he said.

"Yes," Simon continued. "Harvey, we…"

"So this document is legitimate," Mike said, looking between the two men. It wasn't a question. Toby nodded. Simon cursed under his breath.

"Yes," he snapped. "It is. Keith…"

"Start from the beginning," Toby supplied, his quiet voice calming Simon's rage. The big man's hands again went racing through his hair.

"Back when we first started," he began as Harvey and Mike both took their seats to listen. "Keith was…well, to put it frankly, he was the fast talker. You know me—I'm...

"The bull in the china shop," Toby supplied.

"...Toby is the quiet one, and Keith was the snake you want on your side." Simon finished.

"But not behind you," Toby murmured. Simon smiled a little.

"Right. We all used to be friends in college. We started Gearhart together," he said.

"I can see that," Harvey said, looking pointedly at the damning document.

"Harvey," Toby said, "Keith tried to go behind our backs and sell our idea to Langlie before we even got off the ground. When we found out…"

"We threw his ass out and drew up a new document naming the both of us as founders, minus the dirtbag," Simon finished. Harvey nodded. His thoughts were calculating.

"Do you have proof of that?"

They both shook their heads. "No," Simon said. "When we found out what he was doing we..." Toby gave him a look. Simon cleared his throat. "Okay, _I _may have destroyed his computers. I don't think there's any evidence to show."

"You should have told me," Harvey said. The two of them had the decency to look guilty.

"It just didn't seem like it mattered," Toby said. "We thought we were done with him a long time ago. When he joined up with Langlie, well, we figured he wouldn't need to bother with us anymore because he would be too busy screwing up their company instead of ours." He said it with such politeness that Mike had to cover his mouth and pretend to cough to cover his laugh.

"I see. Look, I understand that you two aren't exactly experts on the law, but you need to keep me informed in the future, do you understand? I can't protect you from things like this if you keep me in the dark. I _am _an expert in the law, remember?"

"I apologize, Harvey," Toby said. Simon's hands twitched as he tried to keep from brushing at his hair again.

"There's nothing else to tell," Simon said at Harvey's probing look. "I swear. All of this happened before we were successful, before we even came to Pearson-Hardman to make sure our work was going to be safe."

"It is," Mike said, stepping in to reassure the big man. "You don't have anything to worry about on that front." Harvey handed the settlement offer to Toby, who glanced through it with sharp eyes.

"Well. What do you suggest we do now?" he asked, giving the folder to Simon, who began to look through it as well.

"You are going to want to settle," Harvey said with a sigh. "Unfortunately, you don't have much legal ground to stand on with this. You didn't go about it the legal way before and these are the consequences." Simon flinched. Harvey's tone softened, but only by a hair. "We should give them a counter-offer. Because all 3 of you started the company, and there's no proof on whose idea was whose, Keith's not entitled to any of your earnings. The back-pay is a different story."

Toby nodded and got to his feet, buttoning his gray suit in one smooth moment. "You draw it up and we will sign it," he said gravely. Simon, clearly annoyed and miserable, stood with Harvey and shook his hand.

"Thanks," he said, and with that, the two of them left. Harvey watched them go and just shook his head.

"Idiots," he muttered. "See that, Mike? That's how to be an idiot."

"They didn't know," Mike reminded him.

"That's no excuse to be stupid." Harvey began heading back to his office. "Go draw up a settlement offer for Keith. And try not to miss anything."

"But...I didn't miss..!" Mike huffed in frustration and sped off in the opposite direction, almost crashing head first into Louis.

"Mike," the man said, and his tone was pleased, which made Mike afraid. Very afraid. "I'm so happy I ran into you, because I was wondering how those cases I gave you were going." His mind gave him a terrifyingly clear flashback to Harvey's desk...where the case files were sitting, since he had placed them there that morning before unloading the important ones into Harvey's hands. Oh, no.

Louis grinned.

Oh, yes.

* * *

She had given up on the idea that Harvey was ever going show up again. Why would he, anyway? He had gotten the information he wanted, right? His ass-covering must have been successful, for she hadn't seen head nor tail of the lawyer since then. Lillian was determined to be happy about that. It's not like she really needed him around, leaving that slimy slug-lawyer trail everywhere he went. Besides, she had other things to be thinking about.

Better things.

More important things.

God dammit.

Lillian ran her hands through her hair for the fifth time and looked around her new apartment. It was nice, not too large but not too small. Just right, if one cares to remember the story of Goldilocks for a moment. Boxes were still strewn about haphazardly, but she had the important things unpacked. Like a pot. And a pan. And her bed. And possibly more ice cream. There wasn't time to unpack anything else, though, because she had an interview. An important one, at that! Because of her previous experience with Gearhart, their competitor, Langlie Entertainment, was quite eager to offer her a job interview. Though she had applied with Gearhart first, her old position had already been filled, and Langlie had an opening. Which was why she was hopping through her apartment on one foot, putting heels on with one hand and trying to put her hair into some semblance of order with the other. Not very successfully, mind you.

By some miracle, she made it out the door ten minutes later, her blue satin blouse sporting only a couple of wrinkles, and the black pencil skirt following suit. Her heels, black peep-toes that were adorable to look at but hell to walk in, clicked on the sidewalk as she tried not to sprint to the first cab she saw. Tried being the operative word, here. Being late to a job interview with the only company who had even offered a chance at being hired was a bad, bad idea. So when she arrived at the building she was flushed and her hair, which had been forced into a bun-like shape, was trying its best to escape. There wasn't time to worry or fix it, and so she walked into the graceful, soaring building like nothing was wrong.

She was hired on the spot. Lillian couldn't help but wonder a little if it was because when CEO Keith Yilardo had stuck his head into her interview, his eyes had gone straight to her breasts, and then he had given a nod to his hiring manager before vanishing. Granted, she did have nice breasts, but she wasn't sure she liked them being eyeballed by the CEO of a company she wanted to work for. Or any company, for that matter. She decided to reserve judgment on that for now, though, and just be happy that she had a job. Until she could get her affairs in order with her books, she couldn't count on them as a source of income. The movie deal had since been withdrawn with the legal skirmish between she and Alexander, but her publisher had told her privately that should she write another series just as good, it wouldn't be hard to open that door again. She was trying to be hopeful about it. But until she actually had her next big idea, she would need income. The money Alexander had let her take wouldn't be enough to pay for that apartment forever, after all.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Smiling to herself, she turned...and the smile dropped from her face, hit the sidewalk, and sprinted in the opposite direction.

"Lillian?" Harvey Specter strolled toward her, his face carefully neutral.

"...Harvey," she said. Smart as he was, she hoped he could read what she had actually wanted to say in her tone. It went something like 'hey douchecanoe, go away, shove off, shoo fly, jump off a bridge.' By the way he began to smile, she guessed that he could.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His eyes missed nothing. By the way she was dressed, and standing right outside Langlie's coporate office, he had a pretty good idea what she was doing. She glared at him.

"Standing."

"Oh, is that what you're doing? Because it looks like you just had a job interview," he said. She repositioned her purse on her shoulder and faced him fully.

"As a matter of fact, I did. And I'm officially hired. So maybe I should just pay you to go away," she said. He shrugged.

"It wouldn't work," he told her.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you still haven't had dinner with me."

Lillian resisted the urge to smack him with her purse. "Um, okay, first of all...you're being a creepy-ass stalker-douche right now, so that definitely doesn't make me want to go to dinner with you, and second-are those tickets to the Writer's Conference?"

Harvey smirked. "I recall you saying something along the lines of 'melted ice cream requires more than dinner,' so I thought this might ease the pain."

"You..." she was genuinely speechless for a moment. "How did you get those? That event was sold out the moment it was announced," she said, incredulous.

"I have my sources," he said, and tucked the tickets back into his suit pocket. "Now, did you change your mind about dinner? Because the only way you're going to go to that conference is if you have dinner with me." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Blackmailing me now, huh?" He shrugged in response.

"You're the one who decided that slightly melted ice cream was a crime," he said.

"Hey! It was not _slightly _melted and I'll have you know that in some states, you would be going to jail for 3-5 years, Conference tickets or no Conference tickets," she told him. His eyes went to her hand, which had found its way to her hip without her permission.

"Well, since we don't live in...whatever world you just created there," he said, waving a hand vaguely as if that would encompass all the crazy that had just come out of her mouth. "You can come to dinner with me, go to the conference, and I can stay out of ice-cream jail. Okay?"

She glared at him and weighed her options. There had to be some sort of sneaky reason he wanted to take her out, but she'd be darned if she could figure out what it was. The fact was that she _did _want to go to that conference. Badly. Because of Alexander, she had missed her invitation in the mail and so had no way to go-it was too expensive to buy tickets, if she could even find any. The Writer's Conference was a big deal to anyone who wrote books, or was trying to write books. Getting to mingle with the big names, publishers, agents...it would be the perfect time for her to find her footing again in the literary world. So, pretentious doucherocket though he might be, she was going to go to dinner with Harvey Specter. Wait. He had shown her two tickets. She tilted her head and tried to spear him with her gaze. He was unfazed. Drat.

"You have two tickets. Why?"

"I assumed you'd have a friend you would want to take with you," he said. His eyebrows rose slightly. "_I'm _most certainly not going." Lillian sighed. She didn't have many friends, really...she had slowly closed herself off from people the longer she spent with Alexander, which was hilariously ironic since they had grown apart so quickly as well. But she had been so absorbed with her books...

"Fine," she said. "But don't you dare to think that I'm going for any reason other than to get those tickets from you."

"I wouldn't dream of presuming such a thing," he said dryly. "I'll pick you up at 7."

"You don't know where I live," she said with a smirk. Hah! Victory!

"Or do I?" He only gave her a cocky smile and began to walk past her as she stood there, her mouth hanging slightly open. That just wasn't fair.

"Hey!" She whirled around and he glanced over his shoulder. "You..." she wanted to tell him just how creepy it was that he already knew she had moved, but gave up before she could complete the sentence." What should I wear?" she asked instead, her voice resigned. Harvey just smiled.

"Well, I'm not going to take you to McDonalds," he said. "You can figure it out." With that, he sauntered away, and Lillian was left standing on the sidewalk trying to decide just how badly she wanted to hit him with a shoe. But she'd be damned if she didn't find his smirk rather...attractive. Mentally beating herself around the head with the Stick of Logic, she flagged a cab and headed home. She needed to unpack and find an outfit for...wherever the hell they were going. She wondered if she dressed like Ronald McDonald if he would still want to eat with her. The thought made her grin. That'd teach him.

* * *

Harvey's mind was in several different places as he walked back to Pearson-Hardman. It hadn't been coincidence that he had been strolling past Langlie's building, but it had been a coincidence seeing Lillian there. And she was going to be working there. Hmm. He had meant to give her a call anyway, but seeing her had been somewhat of a shock to his system, what with her hair trying to escape the way it did and her long legs—_lots of women have long legs, _he reminded himself. Indeed, he had admired (in more ways than one) many of them. Sometimes more than once! Either way, she was beautiful, especially when she looked at him like she wanted to kill him. He smirked to himself. That look wasn't new on beautiful women, either. It was, however, one of his favorites. At least now he could test his theory...

When he got back to the office, his eyes went straight to Donna, who gave him the most innocent look she could dredge up. He chose to ignore it and instead went with the standard "Where's Mike?" question.

"Ah...Louis has him down in the file room going over some briefs," Donna said. Harvey turned on his heel and went in search of his associate. When he found him, Mike gave him what could only be described as a helpless look. Louis was standing there, dictating (mostly to himself) exactly the way he wanted the briefs done, how they should be ordered, and the exact way he wanted them placed on his desk. He stopped abruptly when he saw Harvey.

"Louis, what are you doing?" His tone was pleasant, but they both knew Harvey was only thinly veiling his contempt.

"Well I was going to ask you for a favor the other day," Louis said, "but you were busy, so I just asked Mike here to come down and go over these for me."

"Really," Harvey said. "And none of the other associates can handle this?"

"No, they're all busy. Swamped. Buried," Louis said. "I'm in control of them, remember? And if I need something done..." he shrugged. "It gets done."

"Uh-huh. Which is why you were going to ask me, and then...what? You just decided that going behind my back was a better idea? We've talked about this, Louis. Mike is _my _associate."

"Yes," Louis snapped back, "but I'm in charge of—"

"You can pretend to be in charge of whatever you want, Louis, but if you go behind my back again like that, we're going to have a problem."

"You don't already have a problem?" Mike asked. They both glared at him and he cleared his throat.

"Mike? Shut up and come with me," Harvey told him. The associate used his best ninja moves to escape from behind the table, out from under the pile of briefs, and securely glued himself to Harvey's side as they left. Louis glared after them. One of these days he was going to figure out how to knock Harvey off his high horse, but till then, he was stuck with a pile of unfinished briefs. Great. He stormed off in the opposite direction.

"Thanks," Mike muttered as they headed back to Harvey's office.

"Yeah. Did you get any _actual _work done? Like—"

"Liiiike the counter proposal for Langlie? Yeah." Mike's tone was pleased.

"...Where is it?"

"Oh. Uh, well, Louis made me go—"

"Go get it," Harvey said, giving Mike a look.

"Right." Mike veered in the opposite direction to go retrieve the files and Harvey rolled his eyes. Donna handed him his coffee as he walked by and he smiled. At least she was always reliable, unlike certain associates...

Sitting down at his desk, he opened his laptop and glanced through his emails. Nothing important. The only thing he had to do was get Keith Yilardo to sign their settlement agreement. It was a win for both parties, really, although less than Keith had originally asked for.

Still, it was a good deal and Harvey was confident that he would take it. He'd be an idiot not to. Mike finally came in with the file and promptly disappeared again as Harvey looked over it. Well, everything was in order, just the way it was supposed to be. Maybe the kid was learning something after all.

Time crawled by for the rest of the day. Harvey stopped by the Gotham Car Club and chose the classic Mustang for the second time. He was getting a sort of attachment to that car. As it thundered up to the curb of Lillian's apartment, he smiled a little to himself. As if he wouldn't know where she had moved to...hah.

* * *

She refused to admit that what she was doing was called "nervous pacing" in some circles. No, she was simply...testing her heels on the new floor. Yeah, that was it. Was he going to show up? Well of course he would, Harvey Specter didn't just not show up for things. She couldn't shake the niggling feeling that this wasn't just a social call, but tried her hardest anyway. Hey, she wanted those tickets, even if she did have to paddle up the douche river to get them. When her intercom buzzed, she jumped about four feet, which was quite impressive in the heels she was wearing. When she pushed the button, Harvey's voice flowed into her apartment, low and smooth.

"Not going to stand me up, are you?" He asked her. She glared at the wall. Oh, right, because he could totally see that.

"It'd be even better if you just left the tickets under my door," she said, and then realized she had forgotten to push the button that would transmit her voice downstairs. Drat. She jammed it with her thumb and scowled. "I'm coming! Cocky bastard," she muttered.

"I heard that."

"You were meant to," she lied, and headed out the door. He was standing there in the lobby, hands in his suit pockets, waiting for her. When the elevator doors opened, he couldn't help but blink. The dark blue dress she wore fell in layers, coming up shorter over her knees and longer in the back, but all of it sparkled. She waltzed toward him on silver heels, the sway of her hips making the dress dance around her legs. "Sorry," she said, stopping in front of him. "I couldn't find my Ronald McDonald outfit."

"That's okay," he replied, and didn't miss a beat. "Someone is borrowing my Hamburgler suit anyway." She couldn't help but smile, and her green eyes lit up. He gestured toward the curb, and she snorted.

"What, the Prius wasn't available tonight?" she asked as he opened the door for her.

"That is a direct insult to this car and I'm going to take it personally," he said in response.

"Really? Whatcha gonna do, sue me?" She snapped her mouth shut and he closed the door instead of answering. Well, _he _hadn't sued her, but that really wasn't the point, was it? Not that he was above flaunting victory (usually), but it didn't seem wise to do that when the person who had been doing the losing would be sitting far too close to him. With a steak knife. When he settled behind the wheel and the engine roared to life, she had to smile. There was just something about bad boys and their cars, she supposed. Maybe that could tie into her next story...

"So where are we going? Wendy's?"

"Close," he said. "Heard of BLT Steak?"

"No," she said, raising an eyebrow. "You're going to let me have a steak knife, huh?"

"I trust you won't stab me before dinner is over," he said.

"Hah! Shows what you know."

"Which is everything."

"Okay, now I'm definitely going to stab you."

He laughed. The sound startled her. Maybe Harvey Specter did have a soul. Naaaaah, couldn't be.

"Alright," she said, looking down at her hands. "Why are you really doing this? You certainly have no obligation to me at all. Especially since I'm not your client, and never will be."

"You never know," he said. He thought about it for a moment as they sat at a red light. She'd call him out if he gave her a bullshit answer, and they both knew it, so he attempted at a real one. "I don't deal in divorces," he said finally. "And I think Alexander is a..."

"Doucherocket," she supplied. He snorted.

"What?"

"You know, he went off so fast to douche-land that he might as well have been on a rocket," she mused.

"Okay," Harvey said, wondering just how much free time she really had. "Just because I won the case, doesn't mean I think it was right, or fair." Justice wasn't always "fair," and he knew that, but there had been no justice about their divorce.

"So, you're bribing me with tickets and feeding me as an apology." It wasn't a question. He gave her a look. He had already apologized to her after all, and that wasn't going to happen a second time!

"Just call it easing my conscience," he said instead.

"Oh, you have one of those?"

"Sometimes."

She shook her head with a little laugh and looked out the window. This was odd. She knew that Harvey was extremely capable of being charming, witty and fun...but having it directed her way was disconcerting. She was much happier in her corner of dislike and was perhaps overly cautious about coming out of it. It was just so hard to tell whether or not he was genuine or if he had ulterior motives. When do lawyers _not _have ulterior motives, anyway? What if Alexander had asked him to do some "research" to make sure she wasn't hiding any hidden reserves of cash around? She shook her head. Harvey wouldn't do that. Would he? No, she decided. That would be far beneath him. And he had already been quite clear in the fact that he did not much like Alexander. The thought made her warm and fuzzy inside.

When they arrived at the steakhouse, the butterflies in her stomach had not yet settled. They only fluttered their wings harder when she took Harvey's hand to step up out of the Mustang. Hoo-boy but that man _was _attractive. Damn him. He had apparently already made a reservation (_always prepared,_ she thought) for they were immediately seated despite the full lobby. The atmosphere was nice. Cozy, but not too close, so you didn't feel like you were crawling into the next table's conversation. To top it off, they were in a corner booth, which provided maximum privacy. By the way the waiters smiled and acknowledged him, she guessed Harvey had been here before. A few times. She watched him carefully over the table, still trying to decide if she was going to just have fun, or give him a hard time based on the uneasy feeling at the back of her mind. When he looked at her and smiled, though, she couldn't really help but go for the "having fun" option. He ordered the wine, and then it was his turn to watch her carefully.

"I didn't picture you as a wine kind of guy," she said, lifting her glass.

"Wine goes with steak," he said, as if that answered everything. She sipped it and smiled a little.

"Well, at least you don't have completely awful taste."

"I don't have anything with the tag 'completely awful' attached," he informed her.

"Oh? Have you read the label on that suit lately?"

"What's wrong with this suit? Oh, that's right, nothing." She stuck her tongue out at him and he couldn't help but laugh. "Should I cut you off now, then?" he asked, looking pointedly at her glass.

"Don't you dare," she said, putting the wine well out of his reach. "That's normal behavior, not drunk behavior!"

"For a crazy person."

"Well, you were bound to find out someday."

And so the evening went. She had more than a few glasses of wine once her nerves settled, and found Harvey to actually be pleasant company. When he wasn't being a bit of an ass, that is. When they stood to leave, she wasn't surprised to find herself just a little tipsy. So when he offered her his arm, she took it. Nothing worse than falling on your ass in a nice pair of heels, after all. He asked her questions as the valet retrieved the Mustang, and she answered playfully, though honestly.

"Wait, you did _what?" _He could only stare at her.

"It was a dare!"

"As a lawyer, I would advise you to never do that again."

"Are you kidding? I'd do it again in a second. Maybe. With the right amount of alcohol." He opened the car door and watched her step in. Sure, she was a little wobbly on her feet, but she was perfectly coherent and easy to talk to. He shut the door and tried to wipe the grim look off of his face before he yanked out his phone and dialed.

"Mike. Treasure this moment, because you're only going to hear this once: you were right. I need you to look deeper into Alexander. What? No, I just watched Lillian down four glasses of wine and retain near-perfect mental clarity. She only had—exactly. Right. Shut up. I'm hanging up now." His associate's smug "_So, you took her to dinner for _research, _huh?" _ringing in his ears, Harvey shoved the phone into his pocket and slid behind the wheel of the car.

By the time he had gotten Lillian home, her sarcasm was only slightly dulled, and she still remembered her name, and exactly where they had been. What she hadn't caught on to just yet was why he kept asking her the questions. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said, his voice brisk, and with that, he and his mustang were gone, leaving Lillian blinking with surprise inside her door. Well, that was not what men usually did after a nice dinner, but hey! She had ice cream, a pleasant buzz going, a mind full of Harvey Specter…and blissfully free of Alexander Hanovri. For the moment, that is.

It hit her all at once, and the spoon was still in her mouth when she slammed the ice cream to the table. "Son of a bitch." Her phone was in her hand and she was dialing before she even realized what she was doing. She didn't have his personal number, but she _did _have his work number. Donna was going to have a field day with that in the morning…

"You jackass," Lillian snarled into her phone, "You just wanted to see if I was lying about how much I drank! You know, you could have just taken me to a bar; a few shots of Petron and I could have _really _shown you something, you self-righteous son of a—"

"_If you are satisfied with your message, press one. If you'd like to rerecord your message…" _Lillian hit the 1 so hard that her smartphone's screen made an almost audible protest. The phone clattered to counter as she stared hard into her ice cream, hoping the answers would pop out of it like a magic top-hat. It didn't work. She couldn't help the sting of hurt in her chest. "Right," she said aloud, sarcasm coating her words. "Not like that man would _actually _want to spend time with me, nooo, that wouldn't make sense anyway! Unless I somehow magically turn into a billion dollar merger, Harvey Specter could care less." She threw the spoon. When it clattered to the floor, she blinked. Wait. "I don't _want _him to care about me," she told the abandoned spoon. Her words hung in the air, uncertain. "I don't think. No. Definitely not. He's a douchecanoe. A douchemobile. He's a veritable pile of douchery." She picked up the spoon an sighed. "It's just the alcohol. Which is why I'm talking to myself. Yeah. It'll all go away in the morning." With that, she threw the S'mores frozen goodness back into the freezer, stomped into her bedroom, face planted onto her bed, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Oh look, there's more! Thanks to Artemis for help figuring out just what the heck Langlie Entertainment was suing for, anyway! And that is why this chapter took so gosh darned long. It's extra-long to make up for that. :) Enjoy...and yes, there IS a douche theme going on here. Thanks for catching that. Cheerio!**


	6. Chapter 6: Confusion

**Disclaimers of the Usual Kind: Suits isn't mine. Still very sad about this. Oc's are. Joy.**

* * *

Blink. Blink blink blink.

"That's an appropriate response," Donna said dryly. Harvey gingerly hung up the phone, as if Lillian's leftover rage might cause it to explode at any time.

"Well," he said after a pause. "That I didn't expect."

"You can't always know everything," Donna said, shifting in her chair. She was staring at him awfully intently. He arched an eyebrow.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because."

"Thanks, you just answered all of the questions of the universe," he said, his dry tone matching hers. "Now that I've been enlightened, do you want to…oh I don't know, maybe go back to your desk?"

She gave him the look. The look that said 'Harvey, you know what you did wasn't quite right, and I don't like it, so I'm going to make you feel uncomfortable until you tell me to get out.'

The silence stretched. He looked away. It was the only indication that he agreed. Telling Lillian outright would have been...easier. But really, testing her honesty had been a secondary thought, one he had been glad to have since that meant he hadn't just asked her to dinner for no reason. When he looked at her, he didn't immediately know what he wanted, and that bothered him. With most women, he knew instantly whether or not he wanted to have sex with them or not. Lillian confused him. He didn't like that.

Donna got up abruptly. "You might want to apologize if you plan on taking her to any..." she paused. "You know. Actual dinners that don't have any sneaky lawyer-things attached to them. Women like those."

"Oh, come on Donna," Harvey said, watching her go. He had more to say, but Mike was headed toward his office, so he shut his mouth instead. Sure, what he had learned last night was helpful and had solidified his trust in what the woman said...but he knew that being sneaky backfired sometimes. This was probably one of those cases. He watched Mike come in, several folders in his hands. Since Lillian was, in fact, not a big fat fibber and should not have had a blackout after a single drink, he was hoping Mike had come up with something he could use.

Normally, Mike would have been doing some kind of victory dance, or singing 'Miiiiike is the chaaaampion' or something along those lines, but the associate was serious as he handed his work over to Harvey.

"Well?" the older man eyed him carefully. Mike sat down and sighed.

"Well...Harvey, what's the point of this? We represent Alexander anyway, we can't testify against him in court."

Harvey smirked at him. "Who said anything about testifying against him? Just tell me what you found." He began flipping through the paperwork as Mike started talking.

"At first, I just tried to go back as far as I could. But I couldn't hardly find anything on him," he said. Harvey's eyes were sharp when he glanced up, but he said nothing. Mike went on. "Other than the obvious stuff you know, like where he graduated and the start of his business, which grew into more businesses. But then I wondered...Alexander started losing money the year after he got married. So..."

"You followed the money," Harvey said. If he was reading these files correctly—and of course, he was—then the fury rising in his chest was completely justified.

"Yeah." Mike said. "He was losing money because he wasn't out scamming women out of theirs anymore. He quit the year before they were married and then couldn't support his lifestyle. Most of his business ventures are completely broke. Most because they're kind of stupid ideas. I mean, who really needs a special tool _just _to cut bananas? But I guess that means he really cared about Lillian—"

"It means he's not an idiot," Harvey replied. "The statute of limitations on fraud is 6 years. He was just waiting until it ran out." Mike blinked.

"Oh. Sorry. I haven't slept much yet." He rubbed at his face, annoyed that he had missed that detail. Then again, he had been so focused on finding out who Alexander had taken advantage of that he had sort of forgotten about the rest. And there was that thing with Rachel... "That's how he got the money to begin with. Rich widows, even the occasional married woman cheating on her husband...there's a list of names in the back of that one," he said, pointing to the file he meant. "And those are just the ones I've found so far."

Harvey tossed the files down and looked out the window.

"Care to share what you're planning to do now that you know?" Mike asked. They couldn't prosecute the guy, after all...he was still their client. Confidentiality is a bitch. So is signing nifty documents that say 'you're our client so we won't stomp on you.' But Mike knew Harvey. His moral code said that things had to be righted and he wouldn't stop till they were. Like when he had found out that he had put an innocent man in jail, or how he reacted when he realized that his clients had lied about information.

"Nope," Harvey said, turning back to his associate. "I'll take care of it. Good work." Mike tried not to show how pleased the compliment made him, but hey, they were rare enough from Harvey that he felt entitled to feel _some _measure of joy.

"I can help-"

"No," Harvey cut him off. "I'll handle this one myself." Mike nodded reluctantly. If Harvey viewed it as his screw-up, then there was no way he was going to let Mike touch it and get his fingerprints all over it. Help, yes. Maybe. Handle? No way in hell.

"Fine," he said, getting up. "Harvey? Kick his ass." Mike hitched his jacket over his shoulder and walked out, pausing at Donna's desk to say hello before he continued on. Harvey grinned after him. Yes, reducing Alexander to a puddle on the floor sounded like a great idea, actually.

The baseball found its way into his hand again. It often did when he wanted to think. So, Lillian wasn't the first one Alexander had stolen from. He couldn't bring the man up before a judge and point out the history as leverage to over-turn the pre-nup...he could "accidentally" give the information to another lawyer to use, but that just wasn't his style. So now that he had the information, what could he do with it? He had a couple ideas, mostly ones that centered around baseball bats, but he wasn't going to confront the man just yet. He wanted one more piece of information, and he wasn't going to have it until later that night. So he would wait. Not necessarily patiently. He still had one more shot at nullifying that pre-nup, and he was willing to be patient to see if it would work. Either way, he was more determined than he ever had been to help her, whether she liked it or not.

He looked at his phone and had to laugh at himself. At this point, probably not. He picked it up and dialed anyway. After all, he had said he would call, and so he would!

"Yes, I'm almost finished unpacking." Lillian, with the phone wedged between her ear, had a can opener in one hand and a box of thumbtacks in the other. "Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever. No, no, no! Stop talking! I'm hanging up now! Bye Ruby!" She dropped the phone on the counter and shuddered. Her friend really knew how to...well..._vibrate _her buttons sometimes.

The last empty box skittered across the floor as Lillian gave it a satisfied kick. "Take that," she told it, as if the boxes were the sole reason her life had changed so drastically. Well, if that was true, there were no excuses now, because she was officially...unpacked! Having her own space seemed a little strange. Foreign, even. She was quickly growing to love it, though. Mostly because no douchecadets were present. As if her thoughts had summoned him forth from the depths of all douchery, her phone rang. Pearson-Hardman's name flashed up on the screen. Oh, good, just who she wanted to talk to. She answered it.

"I'm sorry, the number you have reached does not accept calls from total jerks who take people out to dinner with sneaky, underhanded, ridiculous—"

"So, you would have gone with me if I had said 'Hey Lillian, I just wanted to check and see if you're telling the truth or not, mind drinking this?" Harvey's voice was tart, and she resisted the urge to stamp her foot in frustration. Damn him for having a point. A good one, at that. It was indeed quite pointy. She wanted to stab him with it.

"Well?" he demanded. Oh. He was just asking for it.

"I might have," she replied with gritted teeth. Maybe if he had proposed it as a challenge. Maybe. More than likely she would have given him a dirty look and stalked away with a few more well placed douche-related insults. "Fine, you know what? Fine. Whatever. You got the information you wanted, for whatever godforsaken reason you wanted it to begin with-care to share that reason, by the way?" suspicion colored her voice. He sidestepped her easily.

"Let me make it up to you," he said. She twitched.

"Make it up to me how? By taking me on another dinner-date to see if I'm _actually_ allergic to strawberries?"

"Are you?"

"...No."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem."

"Harvey, I swear to god..."

"Lillian." His voice changed, becoming slightly gentler. "I didn't take you to dinner just for that. You'll just have to trust that the rest of it was in your best interest." She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it like it had just grown wings. Trust Harvey? What a novel thought. There was silence on the other end as he waited.

"Fine," she said, putting it back up to her face. "I want you to come to the Conference with me. If you can manage that, then I might be able to concede the point that you are not a total douchecanoe." Her brain scrambled to keep up with her mouth. Had she really just said that? Harvey's stunned silence told her she had. Well, drat.

"What? You want me to come with you?" Quick, improvise!

"Um...yes. You have a problem with that? Would the great Harvey Specter be—gasp! Uncomfortable? Surrounded by people who earn their living making fiction?"

"...No," he lied.

"Good, then you can come get me tomorrow night and prove it," she said, and her voice was smug.

He rolled his eyes at no one. If a cat was smug after eating a canary, then she was the equivalent of ten cats. So he wasn't that big into fiction writing. So what? That didn't mean he couldn't stand around looking handsome like everyone else. Well, he reasoned, champagne and wealthy people were right up his alley, after all. It wouldn't be that bad.

"Fine," he said. "Then I'll see you tomorrow night. Try not to drink too much before then." He hung up before she could respond, and she couldn't help but laugh. He was a jerk. But he was a nice jerk. Was it possible to be a nice jerk? Apparently it was, because he was doing it.

"Alright," she told her empty apartment. "He can have another chance. But if he's a douchenozzle on this one too, then I'm going to set him on fire and pretend it never happened." Yes, that would work. Turning around, she looked at her newly hung calendar. Right. Tomorrow was Friday. She started working at her new job on Monday. Good, that left her the weekend to relax if the night didn't go well, and if it did go well, then she could have a happy weekend thinking about it. Hmm. She tapped her fingers on the counter. Huh. She was actually looking forward to seeing him. That was weird. Now, now, she cautioned herself. Can't forget that he took me out to dinner for the sole purpose of seeing how much I could drink before getting drunk. Well, she amended, he said that wasn't the only reason. But then, what were the others? He said to trust him. Well...he could have tomorrow and that's it. Everyone deserves a second chance. Right?

Harvey stared at the phone for a moment and just shook his head. Well, that had gone better than he had thought...and yet worse at the same time. He was going to see her again. Point for good. He was going to a writer's conference. Point for not-so-good. He liked law, he liked things that made sense. He wasn't opposed to creativity of course, and how could he be? Harvey was the best at finding creative solutions to difficult problems. Creating entire worlds with nothing more than words was another thing altogether. Maybe he would get lucky and there would be a few technical writers there and he could talk to them about things that made sense. Maybe.

He stared blankly at his computer screen. The settlement counter-offer was still on his desk, ready to be taken to Langlie. He would take it Monday, he decided. It was enough time to make them a little nervous, since they hadn't come back with a signed offer yet, but not so much time to make Keith get suspicious. Then the overbearing oaf could sign it and Harvey would be on his merry way to the next case. He was very much looking forward to that.

* * *

When night fell, it found him at a familiar magazine vendor, with a familiar woman. "Your guy is smart," she told him, handing over an envelope cleverly encased in a magazine. Cosmo. Of course. "I couldn't find much more than this. But it should be enough." He handed her a glossy magazine as well. Playgirl. She looked at it and grinned. "Classy," she told him.

"I always am," he said with a grin, and they went their separate ways. Someday he might surprise her by calling her to meet him someplace normal, like a Starbucks. But for now, this way was infinitely more fun. He waited until he was in the car before he opened it. The contents made him furious all over again. She had found the name of a photographer, the one who had taken the photos of Lillian and the mysterious man...and more photos. None that would prove that Lillian had been drugged, and none that would prove they hadn't really had sex...but enough to prove to him, at least, that they had been staged. The photographer had been smart, even with his outtakes. The man's face was never fully visible, and Lillian was always positioned in such a way so that you couldn't quite be sure whether or not she was actually conscious. When he realized he was gripping the envelope so hard it was creasing, he took a deep breath. He would pay a visit to the photographer, and find the man who had gone along with the scheme. If he could get him to testify against Alexander, they could overturn the pre-nup and Lillian would get her life back. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to testify himself...but he could easily arrange for the evidence to fall into the right hands when the time was right.

He started the car and put the photos back into the envelope. By the morning, he would know where the photographer lived...and by Saturday night, he would have what he needed to give Lillian back what Alexander had stolen. He hoped by then he would know, too, whether or not she fell into his "want to have sex with" category or not. Knowing was always better than not knowing. Yes. He shook his head. Patience, he thought. It was the only thing that was going to get him through the next few days.

* * *

Butterflies swirled in her belly. Big ones. Lillian pressed her hand to her stomach as she waited for Harvey to arrive. He had insisted on driving since she was making him go with her. It was a fitting punishment. She couldn't think of any place Harvey Specter would be more uncomfortable than a giant room full of fiction writers. The thought made her grin. But she still jumped when his voice rolled into her apartment.

"Well?"

Her heels clicked as she walked over to the intercom and leaned on the button.

"You sound happy to be here," she said, her voice smug.

"If you're not ready, I can certainly make it up to you another night," he said. She laughed.

"Oh, no, I think this will work out just fine. Meet you downstairs."

He was leaning against the car, looking for all the world like he was perfectly happy to be there. Her eyes were drawn to him, and she hardly spared the car a glance. While she felt elegant in her evening dress, Harvey was...well, downright breathtakingly handsome. And she would never, ever, ever let him know that. Her lips twitched at the thought of his ego swelling any further. He wondered what her smile was about, and suppressed a sigh as she folded her arms and gave him a look.

"As good as you look, I'm still not pleased with you," she told him sternly. He could deal with a small compliment, right? A Mike-sized one. His eyes glinted with something a little dangerous.

"I know," he said.

"You could have just asked me outright," she said.

"Could have," he agreed.

"Why didn't you?"

She was beautiful, standing there with fire in her eyes and silk falling all around her. Yet he still didn't know on which side of the fence she fell. How was that possible? Hesitation was certainly not Harvey's style, after all. This was all Lillian's fault. Somehow. He glanced away. He couldn't possibly tell her that his sneaky little idea had only hit him after he had decided he wanted to have dinner with her. So what could he tell her?

"Where's the fun in that?" His smile screamed confident sarcasm, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He was counting on the fact that she didn't know him well enough to notice. Her eyes flashed and he knew he was correct.

"Look here, Captain Douchery," she said, stepping up close to him. She smelled like vanilla. And cinnamon. Hmm. "I don't know what this...thing is, that we're doing." Well, how about that. Neither did he. "But," she continued. "Don't lie to me again."

"It wasn't technically a lie-"

"I will punch you."

"...And how would you explain that to all your friends?"

"I'm a fantasy writer," she told him, her voice dry. "Maybe a unicorn kicked you in the face."

"Can't argue with that," he said. _Because there's absolutely no logic in it. This woman is ridiculous, _he finished in his head, opening the door for her to gracefully step into the car. So then why did he genuinely want to spend time around her? _Because she's different, _he told himself as he joined her in the back seat. Ray had agreed to drive them to the event instead. Which gave him way too much time to look at her long legs—long for someone so short, he amended. As if she knew what he was thinking, she gave him a cool stare. He pretended to be looking out the window past her. _Because I don't know where she fits. _And she did fit. Somewhere. Either as a friend or as someone he would sleep with and then likely not call again. Or someone... _No, definitely not. _He thought firmly. Not that. Never that.

She watched him and, not for the first time, wished she could crawl into his head and figure out what was going on in there. The man had...well, everything. Power, wealth, even some very trustworthy friends. He could have any woman he wanted. Just about literally, too. And yet he was allowing himself to be "punished" for being a dishonest doucheballoon. He was just as interesting to her as she was to him, though she didn't know why, either. Lillian wanted to be wary of him, to barricade what was left of her heart with rusty sporks and spoons, but he just had a way about him that often caught her off guard. As much as she wanted to know just exactly what his interest was in her...in equal measure, she didn't. Because if she knew, and didn't like the answer, then...she tried not to sigh out loud. _Just enjoy the moment, _she thought to herself. _I just won't __ think about how ridiculously easily he could break my heart. He won't. I won't give it to him. Easy as cake. Or pie. Maybe a pie with a cake on top. _

She hoped, anyway.

Harvey allowed the drive to stretch on in silence. Lillian's face was a fascinating study. Mostly because he, the King of Reading People's Dirty Secrets, was making a game out of deciphering what she was thinking as each thought flitted over her eyes. She had noticed his gaze though, and wasn't making it easy. Then again, just what _was _easy about this woman? Oh, that's right. Nothing! When the car rolled to a halt, he was out of it in a flash of easy grace, opening her door before she had time to blink at the empty space where he had been. When she rose, and looked around, her butterflies fluctuated in size. Great. Now they were more like bowling balls. With wings. She hadn't really had a chance to show her face in the writing community since the Alexander-is-a-Douchecanoe-debacle. She wasn't quite sure what she would be facing here. Harvey gave her a strange look and she realized she hadn't let go of his arm-and was probably cutting off his circulation with the way she was gripping it. Well, the man would still be sexier than most men even with one arm, so she couldn't feel too bad for him. The image made her grin. She eased up on her death grip and he just shook his head.

"You know," he said, his mouth close to her ear. "We could always go somewhere and get something to drink instead..." She elbowed him, but gently.

"Nope," she said, her voice somehow managing to be steady though her nerves were not. She gave him a look that was part grateful, part exasperated. "This is your punishment, remember? You get to be just as uncomfortable as me!" With that, she walked up the steps and opened the door. Harvey smirked to himself and followed. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all.

_Two hours later..._

No, no, the night was definitely not as bad as he had thought. Granted, it wasn't the most interesting thing in the world, but watching Lillian made up for most of the earth-shattering boredom he would have been in had he come alone. As the speeches were made and awards given out, she described to him (sometimes in way too much detail) who each person was and, more importantly, what they wrote. He still wasn't sure he could ever really understand anyone who buried themselves so deeply in a fantasy land, but obviously it brought joy to her. Oh yeah, and to other people too. As a bonus, he found himself seated next to a mystery writer who, coincidentally, had used Pearson-Hardman as a resource for one of his novels. He wondered if that had been done on purpose. Either way, when Lillian was giving him a break from what could be imagined, he talked with the other writer about things that actually did happen. It was actually quite fascinating, having two worlds so close together like that. Lillian watched him with a bemused smile as he explained a technical difference to the other man, who was listening avidly and, if Lillian was any judge of expression, wishing like hell he had a pen. It was nice, too, watching Harvey. He obviously enjoyed the law, or he would do something else with his life. Watching him share that with someone else was...enlightening. He turned to her then as the lights dimmed to resume the award-giving, which was apparently a rather extensive part of the Conference. Other than, you know, the plates of food that they had spent the better part of an hour lingering over. Did these people ever eat?

"I'll be back," he murmured to her. She nodded, distracted by the man on stage who was currently looking very confused. No one noticed as Harvey slipped to the back of the room and then outside. He had thought he'd seen someone very familiar...

"So..." The host continued looking confused. "This award is...um..." Lillian shifted. It really shouldn't be that hard to read off a name, and he had been doing it all night. What was so different about this one? "Is...for...Lillian? No, wait, I'm sorry! Alexander Hanovri, please step up and..."

She didn't hear the rest. All she could see was his smirk as he stepped from the shadows and trotted up to the stage, for all the world like he had spent those two long years swearing at the keyboard and chasing a dream. Everyone had been polite throughout the evening, but they all knew. Someone had even asked her if it was okay that they drew inspiration from her story, to write their own. She had agreed, of course...it really didn't matter if she disagreed. Everything was a story, and she understood that, too. Her heartbeat roared in her ears as eyes went to her, then to Alexander, and back again. No one could quite decide who to look at.

"I really have to dedicate this award to Lillian," Alexander's voice slid into her head. Dedicate? _Dedicate? _Luckily for her, the silverware had long since been cleared from the table. Or maybe it was lucky for him, since she had no fork to throw. Looking at him, at the Best New Series award that she hadn't thought would get past nomination, her anger warred with crushing sadness. Had he known she was coming? His face was unreadable as he accepted the award with his usual flair. She stood, gave him a look that should have fried him where he stood, and walked out. She wanted to run, but knew better-the heels would not have it. Lillian was blind to her surroundings, only knowing that she had to get away from the building, before that scumbag came down from the stage with "his" accomplishment to rub it in her face a little more.

She smacked into someone's very solid chest, and only then realized that there were tears running down her face. "I'm sorry," she said, taking half a step back. Great. Now yet another stranger would be looking at her with pity in their eyes... his arms prevented her from going very far, and when she looked up, she saw Harvey, who looked rather like he wanted to kill someone.

"Lillian?" _Damn it. _He swore inwardly. So it must have been Alexander that he'd caught a glimpse of, then, because he couldn't imagine anyone else bringing out fragile-Lillian like that. Instead of pushing him away like he expected her to do, she wrapped her arms around him and clung to him like he was the only solid rock in the storm. Then again, maybe he was. She couldn't find the words to tell him just how hard this betrayal had struck her. More so than the divorce, or anything else Alexander had done. He had taken her work, but left her hope. This was...she tried not to sob _too _loudly into Harvey's shoulder, but really, if any situation called for sobbing, this would be the one. He was tense, but he didn't push her away. To her surprise, he gingerly wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. He didn't even do that awkward head-patting thing guys like to do when they don't have a damn clue what's going on. For some reason, that made her heart ache fiercely. Alexander had always done that. Before he would awkwardly push her away and ask if she needed a tissue, that is. Thenhe would usually sprint away and she would be alone. Harvey didn't do any of that. He was just…there. Right where she needed him.

If it had been anyone but her…he resisted the urge to sigh into her hair. Tuxes were meant to be dry cleaned anyway, right? He looked down at her and couldn't help but feel a little responsible. After all, he hadn't wanted to warn her until he was sure; what if he had been mistaken? Then he would have ruined her evening for no reason. Not that it mattered. Apparently the evening had been doomed to begin with.

He reminded her, gently, to breathe, and she began to calm herself. "It's fine," she muttered, not quite realizing she was doing so out loud. "Yeah. It's ok. He can have it. He probably needs it."

"Because he's a useless bastard who never accomplished anything on his own," Harvey supplied. She looked up at him suddenly, and he was caught by how bright her eyes were under the sheen of tears. A small smile tugged at her mouth and he found himself rather wanting to kiss her.

"Yeah," she said. "Because of that. Also, he has a tiny penis." She eased herself back and he loosened his grip on her, allowing her the space. Pulling something out of the little clutch she had carried with her, she used it to dry her face. He smirked.

"Who carries a handkerchief anymore?"

"Only the most cultured of ladies," she sniffed at him. And before she put it away, he noticed the corner, where the initials H.S were embroidered. Great. Now he _really _wanted to kiss her. But now wasn't the time, and he still wasn't sure he wanted to go there with a woman who was still trying to put her life together again...and kept getting knocked off her feet when she tried.

"That's what I thought," he said, and steadied her with a hand while the car pulled up. Ray was nothing if not reliable. She got into the car and balled her hands in her lap, wondering how to tell him how grateful she was that he was here. That she didn't have to face this entirely alone. And most of all, that he'd held her for a moment and not run in the other direction like a sensible man. When he got in the car, he turned to her and spoke before she could.  
"I have somewhere I need to be," he said. "I'll take you home." She just nodded.

"Harvey?"

His eyes turned to her, dark with an emotion she didn't quite recognize.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft. He shrugged.

"It's what I do," he said, a little bit of his haughty lawyer arrogance in his voice.

_No, _Lillian thought. _It's not. _And that's why it mattered so much.

Harvey looked at her as she focused her eyes on her hands again. No, it wasn't what he did. And for once he was speechless. He wasn't sure why the moment had meant so much to him, either. Yet another addition to the pile of "what the fuck is going on?" that surrounded most of the things he felt about Lillian. It wasn't really a pile anymore. More like a mountain. He had the sneaking suspicion that it was going to fall on him if he didn't figure it out soon. Shaking his head slightly, he tried to put it out of his mind. The night wasn't over, and he had a stop to make…

* * *

He dropped her off and didn't linger once she had gone inside. She needed time to herself and he needed to get to a certain man's apartment before he left. It was a bit of a narrow window, but Ray's driving skills got them there with a few minutes to spare. Harvey pulled a manila envelope from under the seat and went inside. It didn't take him long to find the apartment—3rd floor, apartment 221. He knocked. There was rustling. A man answered the door. He was Harvey's height, but lean and lanky where Harvey was solid and muscled.

"Can I help you?" a sneer crossed the thin lips as he peered at the tuxedo wearing lawyer, who only smirked in response.

"I believe you can. Johnson Karel?"

"Who wants to know?" he asked, wary now. Harvey pulled one of the photos out of the envelope and looked at him.

"I want to know who hired you to take these," he said. "And I want to know his name." He pointed at the shadowed man in the picture. Johnson looked carefully at the photo, then back at the man holding it.

"And if I don't?" he asked, looking Harvey up and down. "What're you going to do? Beat me up?"

"No," Harvey said, sliding the photo back into the envelope. "But I'll make you wish I had." Johnson hesitated. He was no expert at body language, but he understood a serious threat. He had to, really, with the way his business only just toed the line of being legal. He sighed and looked up and down the hall.

"Fine," he said. "I don't know who hired me, exactly."

Harvey's eyebrows went up, and Johnson held up his hands. "Wait, just listen," he snapped. Impatience showed on the lawyer's face, but he waited.

"The guy in the photo is the one who actually approached me, and paid me," he continued, looking again up and down the hall as though the boogeyman might jump out at him. There were things more dangerous than the boogeyman, though. One of which was looking right at him. "I know he was working for someone else, but I don't know who. All I know is that we were supposed to be really careful because there was a lot at stake." He shrugged. "Everyone says that. Just means some rich guy doesn't want to lose his millions. But, look...I never really got a good look at his face, either. He would call me, but if I ever tried to call him it would say the number was disconnected."

"And it didn't bother you at all that the woman was unconscious?" Harvey's voice was tight. Johnson gave him a startled look.

"What? No, I didn't really see that much of her-that was the point! And how am I supposed to know whether or not someone is awake for sex? Jesus. I was outside the window! Just look at the photos, I never went inside the room. I didn't even see them arrive!" he ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, it's not really..."

"Right, it's all about the money for you, I get it," Harvey snapped. The word of a photographer who had clearly not been paying enough attention to know anything wouldn't hold up in court, but it had confirmed Harvey's suspicions. Now the only question was...had the two truly had sex? He asked the question, his voice hard. Johnson only shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "I mean, it certainly looked like it, but you'd have to ask him," he said, gesturing back to the folder.

"Name." His voice was dark, almost deadly.

"I don't really know..." Johnson's gaze flitted back and forth again, nervous. Harvey reached into his pocket, and drew a $100 bill from his wallet. He slapped it to the thin man's chest with a single finger. Contempt rolled off him like a heavy fog, and Johnson swallowed hard.

"Tell. Me. His. Name."

He left Johnson more than a little rattled, but he had a name, and so he didn't care. Ray didn't ask, just drove him home, and Harvey dialed a number. He had only asked her to find out who had taken the photographs, before...now he needed to know where the man who had hired Johnson was, so he could kick his ass. With the law. Maybe. A baseball bat would work just as well. He gave her the name. She promised to find him. Harvey sat back and stared out the window. Chad Leviat. The man who had hired the photographer, who had to be the only one who had direct contact with Alexander. Was he the one who had drugged Lillian? It was the only thing that made sense, really. When he found the man, he would have Alexander. And Lillian would get her life back. And..._then what? _He was determined not to think about it.

_What will be, will._

* * *

**A/N: Hah! Thought I'd forgotten about you, huh? Huh?! Well I didn't. So there! **_  
_


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